


Children of Shadow

by moonfleur



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Witches, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/moonfleur
Summary: Doyoung and Taeyong, Seoul's youngest and most promising Hunter pair, find themselves forced to solve Seoul's first vampire crime in over half a century when they stumble upon a body completely drained of blood.But when this case ends up revealing more secrets, about each other and the world around them, it is all they can do to not lose themselves (and each other) along the way.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 52
Kudos: 85
Collections: NCT Bigbang Round 1





	1. Doyoung

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an AU that I've wanted to write since the beginning of the year so I was really happy that I got to do this for NCTBB.
> 
> I just want to thank the mod for organising this and for creating the fest that gave me the kick I needed to sit down and write this. 
> 
> Also thank you so so much to [caihongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caihongs) and [aeterna_nox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeterna_nox) for beta-ing this for me and for holding my hand throughout the process. I love you both so much ♡
> 
> Just a small note that there will be genre-typical mentions of blood and violence throughout this fic so if that bothers you please do not read it. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> **Check out the trailer for this fic[here](https://twitter.com/moonfleur_/status/1334531651737505794?s=19)**

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

_Fear not,_

_For we walk the path of light  
in the shadows_

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

Doyoung’s always enjoyed the feeling of flying. Not actual flying, that would be humanly impossible, even for someone like him. But the feeling of soaring through the air over the tiny miniscule spaces between buildings, the burn in his muscles as he reaches for handholds mere milliseconds before gravity takes hold and pulls him down. Taeyong always called him an adrenaline junkie, always nagged at him for expending too much energy before taking down the target and Doyoung always said it was because he was jealous that Doyoung received a higher agility score than he did.

He reaches for the bars of a window above him, using it to propel him upwards and over onto the roof of the building. The rooftop is a mess, a clutter of deck chairs long since left to rot in the violent seesaw that is Seoul’s yearly weather pattern take up most of it, but there are things. Mainly junk and the occasional clothing line that Doyoung only notices because the moon is full tonight and it’s silver rays reflect off the thin nylon thread enough for him to duck under. 

A couple of stories below he can hear the padding of Taeyong’s footsteps on the ground, his boots crunching loud enough on the cracked asphalt for Doyoung to know where he is at all times. There is another set of footfalls too, softer, heavier, slower. Doyoung smiles. He weaves his way through the sad graveyard of lost things that is this rooftop before jumping the narrow gap over to the roof of the next building, silently thanking whoever built this neighbourhood for putting their buildings close enough together. He rolls into the landing cleanly, hands barely pressing into the dirt before he is back on his feet and halfway across the roof.

He can hear the other set of footfalls clearer now, can hear the weight in the guy’s footsteps, the way the gaps between steps become longer and longer. Doyoung is slightly surprised that it is this quiet if he’s being honest, nights in Seoul hardly ever are, and definitely not in a neighbourhood so close to the central districts like this one. But the quiet is good, Doyoung prefers hunting where he can hear the target anyway. 

_“Can you take him?”_ Taeyong’s voice sounds in his ear, clear but slightly tinny. He thinks he can almost hear the echo of it bounce off the walls below him but he knows Taeyong is better than that.

Doyoung smiles, unstrapping the weapon that hangs from his hip. It is his favourite — a beautiful sleek crossbow made of a polished black metal he doesn’t really know the name of. It isn’t the full-sized one the Hunters of old used to carry but one that is smaller, just enough for him to use one-handed if he needs to. The metal is cool in his hand in a way that is almost biting after being exposed for most of the night in the crisp autumn air.

He nocks a bolt — iron tonight — jogging around to the other end of this l-shaped roof so that he can cut off the target before he rounds the next building. Side-stepping more forgotten debris, he transfers the weapon to one arm to press his fingers into his earpiece. 

_“Of course.”_

He braces himself on the lip of the roof, one foot balanced on the edge as he leans over it, keen eyes tracking the sound of footsteps from beyond the corner of the building. His earpiece crackles again. _“He’s coming around the corner now.”_

Doyoung hums, pulls the crossbow up to eye level and sets his sights on the corner. Judging from the glimpses of the guy he got when they were staking him out, his knees should be right around… There. He fires a shot just as the guy comes around the corner and the bolt finds its home in the guy’s leg. His screams shatter the silence around them and he crumples to the ground like a paper doll. 

Taeyong is a shadow, almost completely hidden in darkness in his Hunters uniform as he rounds the corner like a wraith and catches the guy just before he hits the ground, slipping a gag into his mouth before he wakes up the neighbourhood. It doesn’t really stop him from screaming though and, even from this distance, Doyoung can just about make out the faint spirals of steam issuing from the wound, the vapour just visible under the streetlights. He wrinkles his nose, not envying Taeyong his job of physically restraining the subject — he’s always hated the smell of burning flesh.

While Taeyong deals with the target — slipping him into bands of iron that sizzle almost as badly against his skin before confiscating the tiny bag of hexes he knows the guy slipped into his knapsack before leaving the bar he’d been at earlier — Doyoung lithely scales down the side of the building, barely making a sound even as he throws himself from window ledge to grate to ramshackle balcony. He lands beside Taeyong silently but Taeyong is already turning to look at him and Doyoung already knows he is giving him a disapproving look even though he can’t make out his features underneath his hood.

“What?” Doyoung challenges, reaching down to help haul the guy back up so that they can drag him out of the circle of the streetlight they’re currently standing under and into one of the nearby alleys. The wound in the man’s leg is still sizzling somewhat and Doyoung almost wants to pull the bolt out. Almost. But he doesn’t because the man — or, more accurately, _witch_ — has already been found guilty, the evidence tucked away safely in Taeyong’s pocket. Besides, pulling the bolt out will do the guy more harm than good and as much as Doyoung is a Hunter, he isn’t _cruel._ The man lets out a faint whimper and Doyoung sighs, turning to him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t decided you were above Treaty law. Now, you will have to be brought before the Guild, and only they can decide what will happen to you.” Another whimper and Doyoung just shakes his head.

“You know, you don’t have to lecture every single target we get,” Taeyong mutters, propping the guy up against the wall before coming up to stand in front of Doyoung. Doyoung can’t see his face but he already knows what expression Taeyong is making — brows furrowed, lips turned down just slightly but there would be amusement in his eyes because he enjoys nagging Doyoung as much as Doyoung enjoys lecturing his targets. Doyoung can already feel the smile pulling at his lips.

“Well, someone has to. You know, reformation and all that.” Doyoung waves a hand grinning even though Taeyong can’t see him either and Taeyong snorts.

“You’re ridiculous,” he returns but there is a fondness in his voice that belies his true feelings.

The man lets out a particularly loud moan through the gag and Taeyong immediately has a dagger in hand, it’s polished iron tip hovering just over the skin at the man’s neck. “Stop that. Don’t you think you’ve exposed yourself to enough humans already? You’re lucky the Guild wants you alive. But make another noise and this dagger will join that bolt in your leg.”

Doyoung watches this happen with mild interest before turning to Taeyong. “You know, you could have caught him ages ago, he wasn’t going that fast. Why didn’t you?”

Taeyong shrugs nonchalantly as he slips his dagger back into its sheath strapped around Taeyong’s thigh. “I know you wanted this one.”

How such simple words manage to disarm him Doyoung doesn’t know but he is left almost speechless, a strange sense of warmth and something like gratitude, smooth and sweet, blossoms in his chest. He feels a sudden urge to do something, return the favour, take Taeyong’s hand, something, _anything,_ but they are on the job and in front of a target. It wouldn’t be appropriate. He does promise to make Taeyong breakfast tomorrow to make up for it, and every other time Taeyong’s let him take the ‘kill’.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says eventually, using Taeyong’s own words against him and, like almost everything with Taeyong, he doesn’t need to see it to feel Taeyong’s smile.

They are interrupted by the arrival of three more hooded figures dashing across the road. Their footsteps are silent but the effort of that is wasted because they’re making a lot more noise with their mouths than they should considering the situation. One of the figures shoulder-checks another just as they’re stepping onto the pavement and the second figure instantly pulls a dagger from inside his jacket. He directs it at the one who hit him, the tip of the blade just inches from his nose.

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation, Doyoung steps forward to pluck the dagger out of the figure’s hand before he can do more than just threaten with it. “Chenle,” Doyoung says, with just a lick of disapproval. “How many times do I have to tell you that you do not use your knives on a fellow Hunter?”

Chenle turns to him, his features hidden under the hood but Doyoung can practically feel the scowl. He crosses his arms and jerks his head towards the other figure. “Hyuck shoved me first.”

“You know full well that is not an excuse to pull a weapon on another Hunter.” He turns to the other Hunter who has remained silent the entire time watching them. “And you, Donghyuck, you should know better than to be fooling around while you are shadowing us on a case. Keep it up and I’ll put you on patrol only for the rest of your years at the Academy.”

Donghyuck snorts, coming up beside Chenle who sidles up to him, their earlier grievance already forgotten. “Like you’d ever get rid of us. When do we get to hunt with you anyway? All this shadowing is fun and all but we want to hunt too.”

Doyoung smiles, the eagerness in Donghyuck’s voice taking him back years, and he can almost hear himself in the echo of Donghyuck’s voice, asking his own mentor that same question. He gives Donghyuck’s shoulder a squeeze, much like Baekhyun had done with him. “You’ll get to hunt when you graduate from the Academy. And only then. For now, I want you to watch us and while you’re doing that, I want you to think to yourselves and ask yourselves why we’re doing what we’re doing. Then think about how you could do it better because there are always ways to learn and to do things better. Besides, between the three of you, I don’t doubt you could pull off cases like this much better than us. _If_ you stop throwing knives at each other. Now, Jaemin?” He calls, turning to the other figure who has remained silent during the entire exchange. “Can you call the Guild? We need a pickup. Tell them we have a witch, they’ll know what to do.” Jaemin nods and steps away to place the call. 

A warm hand presses into the small of Doyoung’s back, the most they can do right now, and he turns to find Taeyong looking up at him. “You sound like my father,” he says, amused. “Relax a little.”

Doyoung snorts. “That’s funny, coming from you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you relax, much less when it comes to your father.”

He gets a pinch for his lip right in the small of his back where Taeyong’s hand is still resting and it is only through sheer will and their years of training that he does not jump or make a sound. He does turn to glare at Taeyong though, who Doyoung assumes is probably smiling that annoyingly sweet smile he likes to use when he’s messing with Doyoung. Doyoung’s retort dies on his tongue when he sees Jaemin approaching them, phone in them as he gestures for them to follow him. 

Doyoung turns to grab the witch when a shrill, ear-piercing scream rips through the sanctity of the night and all of them immediately snap to attention. Doyoung reaches instinctively for his crossbow, taking reassurance in the weight of it in his hand. Beside him, Taeyong has his daggers out in an instant and they gleam like Doyoung’s crossbow does, an identical sinister black, an unorthodox match. Dagger for crossbow. A bit like their owners. 

Against the wall of the alley the witch lets out a small cry which bleeds thinly through the cloth gag and it draws Doyoung’s attention back to him for a second. It is what has him taking stock of the situation at hand before turns back to the three Trainees. 

“Chenle,” he calls, tossing the confiscated knife back to him when the trainee turns to him and Chenle catches it with practiced ease. “The three of you take the witch back to Headquarters when the pick up team gets here. Taeyong and I will look into this.”

Chenle nods, the action mirrored by the other two and Doyoung is thankful that neither of them have decided to challenge his decision. Not like they would have. The kids may fool around but they are some of the best Hunter trainees the Guild has, and Doyoung knows he can count on them to take things seriously when they need to.

Once he is sure that the young hunters have the witch secured — arms looped through one each of Donghyuck’s and Jaemin’s while Chenle takes point — he and Taeyong make their way down the street in the direction of the scream. Or in the direction he thinks the scream came from, the way sound echoes between the buildings in this neighbourhood makes tracking anything difficult for them half the time. 

Unlike the previous chase, this time they are quiet, careful not to make a sound. They move around each other like they were made to, weaving in and out of the rings of light cast by the overhead street lights without ever speaking a single word — movements long-practiced and memorised, an acute awareness of each other most Hunter pairs can’t even replicate. 

Doyoung steps back and lets Taeyong lead halfway through because Taeyong’s always been better at this, the finding. Doyoung is much better at the chasing. It is something they figured out a long time ago, even before their days at the Academy, something they figured out during the countless nights they used to spend tracking animals in the woods just outside of Seoul. 

Taeyong’s always had an eye for things, patterns and the breaks in them, wordless messages left behind by creatures translated into directions and information. Training has helped Doyoung with that but he’s never had Taeyong’s skill. It’s never bothered him, though, because what he lacks in observation he makes up for in speed and agility. Taeyong finds, he chases. Taeyong tracks, he kills. It’s how they are and how they’ve always been; opposing forces that instead of cancelling each other out, balance each other. Taeyong fits into the gaps Doyoung cannot fill, and Doyoung does the same for him, like cogs in a wheel that mesh perfectly together.

Even now, without having to try, their footsteps are completely in sync — _heel, toe, heel, toe, right foot, left foot_ — they barely make a sound but if they did Doyoung knows you’d never be able to tell there were two of them. Doyoung wonders, for a second, if even their hearts beat in time, instincts synced to the microsecond. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were. 

This is different though, this isn’t a hunt, they don’t even have a target, they don’t have anything to go off of besides a scream that could have come from anywhere. And yet, Taeyong manages to find her soon enough. She is nothing more than a silhouette against the wall of another alley, this one a lot more lit than any of the others and accompanied by the dull, muffled thumping of music that seems to be bleeding out through the grates in the floor. Doyoung wrinkles his nose — underground clubs, and not the cool kinds that you find in the campus districts but one that is truly _underground._ Run by Others for Others as the saying goes.

Doyoung has to resist the urge to groan, the poor girl probably stumbled over some Vampire’s leftovers or something. Although, if the girl is human, it will probably complicate things a little. Taeyong cuts across the road to her and Doyoung follows, eyes out and watching because clubs like these are nothing without their own sentries. Then again, he knows they would have been spotted the minute they entered the street anyway.

They reach her and find her pressed up against the grimy corner of a trash receptacle where it’s connected to an equally dirty wall. She immediately cowers away from the hand Taeyong offers, which is understandable considering they both look a lot closer to muggers than the local law enforcement. The phone in her hand is still lit up, numbers flashing at the top of the screen indicating an ongoing call, hopefully a friend but probably the cops.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says softly, reassuringly, and the girl lets out a choked sound halfway between a sob and a scream. “No, no, no, shh. I promise we won’t do anything. We heard you scream. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She shakes her head but Doyoung can see the tension in her every movement, the way she has the phone gripped so tightly her knuckles have turned white. “Can you tell us what happened?” Taeyong tries again.

She shakes her head and a proper sob falls from her lips and Doyoung is sure that’s about all they’re going to get out of her when she lifts a trembling hand and points at the opposite wall of the alley. Doyoung turns and for a second he really thinks she stumbled over some Vampire’s midnight snack. But the body of the girl on the ground, propped up against the wall like some kind of limp doll is most definitely _not_ breathing and he feels his blood immediately turn to ice. 

They might be trained to kill but the sight of a dead body is something Doyoung thinks he will never be used to — especially not if he remains here in Seoul where the crime rate is low and the general murder count is next to zero. This isn’t the first dead body he’s seen, not by a long shot, but it still has bitterness rising up the back of his throat. The girl lets out another whimper and Taeyong immediately moves to comfort her.

Doyoung lets Taeyong deal with the girl while he tries to get a closer look at the body. Of course, there is always the chance that this poor girl is the victim of a regular human crime but something about the way the body has been placed — seated upright and in the middle of an alley that borders an underground Other club — tells him otherwise. There is something about it that is almost too purposeful too, definitely not an unintentional killing, and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. _Who on earth would do something like this?_

He looks behind his shoulder to make sure Taeyong has the girl distracted enough before he crouches down to examine the body. The girl is young, probably no older than him, and pale. So completely pale she is almost white, her skin sickeningly translucent under the dim light of the alley. The pallor is familiar and Doyoung finds himself moving before his brain even picks up on it. Slowly, he uses the tip of his crossbow to push the ends of her hair back over her shoulder and, _there_ , right where he expected them to be — two tiny punctures just over her pulsepoint, the only bits of her that haven't yet faded to a deathly shade. 

Bite marks. 

Strange though, because Doyoung is sure that there is only one vampire Family left in Seoul and their Elder is known to be extremely careful about them obeying Treaty law. In fact, it is because of him that they haven’t had a Vampire-related crime in Seoul in decades. 

Frowning, he sits back on his legs as he takes in the rest of the girl — long black hair, soft features, dressed in a long black dress that looks more like some kind of linen frock than the kind of outfit one would wear to a club. Doyoung looks around but finds nothing else, no bag, no wallet, not even a cellphone. He frowns. No one in Seoul walks around without a cellphone. He looks her over one more time but aside from her pallor — a definite sign of complete blood loss — there is nothing else on her. Not even a scratch. He wants to take a closer look but he doesn’t have his gloves on and he knows the forensics team back at Guild Headquarters will have his head if he ruins evidence.

Behind him, he hears Taeyong’s soft murmurs and the girl’s sniffles and then the sound of a car pulling up to them and the sniffles gradually get softer and softer until they are cut off entirely by the sound of a door slamming. Only when the sound of the car engine fades does Doyoung turn to Taeyong, who has since crouched down beside him to examine the girl.

“What do you think?” Doyoung asks quietly.

Taeyong frowns at the question. “A feeding gone wrong.”

“But look, Yong,” Doyoung counters, gesturing to the ground around the girl. “She doesn’t have anything on her.”

“So she was fed on and dumped here when the Vampire realised he’d gone too far.”

Doyoung shakes his head, turning back to look at the girl one last time, at the way she seems way too peaceful, how even the puncture wounds look too perfect, a deep dark red against the sheer whiteness of her skin. “I don’t know. You know none of the Vampires of the Seoul family have broken Treaty law in the last fifty years. And no rogue Vampire will set foot in Seoul because of their Elder.”

Taeyong’s frown deepens but he doesn’t take his eyes off the body, eyes taking in every detail and probably more. “But if it wasn’t them, then who? Like you said, none of the other vampires will enter Seoul unless invited. But everyone makes mistakes. Maybe one of his vampires got a little too eager. You _do_ know who owns the underground club here, right?”

Something prickles in the back of Doyoung’s mind — nothing more than sounds and smells, bass beats thrumming against his skin and faint smell of cigarettes — a memory that’s long since lost its colour, frayed in more ways than one but he nods anyway because he does know, he _should._

“You really think it could be one of them?” He asks.

Taeyong looks at him then and the moonlight hits him at just the right angle that it throws his features into light — big, dark eyes that sparkle as they look up into his, always warm despite the furrowed brows and the way he’s started to worry at his bottom lip. He sucks a breath between his teeth before his head dips and he returns to the shadows once more. “I don’t know, Doie. I really don’t know.”

♰


	2. Taeyong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them have lived the last three years since their graduation from the Academy like they were in a never-ending race, no end goal in sight, just keep going, one foot in front of the other. It never mattered that their only competition was themselves, not each other, but themselves as individuals. They were their own worst enemies, in a way. Together they were a gratuitous loop of self-destruction into wish fulfilment, every successful hunt displayed like a trophy on some internal shelf of achievements. Validation of a sort only they ever understood or needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, I will be trying to update this every week so here is Chapter 2!
> 
> Enjoy ♡

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

The ride to Guild Headquarters is quiet. They’d called for a pickup and one had come before they’d even had time to ponder on the fact that they’d just stumbled upon a completely drained body, a vampire crime, a circumstance highly unusual for Seoul. 

Having been informed that there would be a body, the pickup vehicle assigned to them is a van — large and black, a behemoth of a vehicle that Taeyong knows is also completely armoured from back to front. 

They’re in the back with the body, the pick up crew taking up the front seats by default, not like either of them would have tried to take them anyway. The body itself is tactfully covered by a black cloth, but that hasn’t stopped Doyoung from looking at it, or rather staring at it. 

They’d removed their hoods once they were safe in the vehicle and Taeyong takes a moment to take in the sight of Doyoung like this; hair disheveled from the hood, a crease working its way deeper between his brows as he falls more and more into his own mind in the way that he tends to do when he has hyper fixated on something. It almost feels like if Taeyong was to look close enough he will be able to see the thoughts in Doyoung’s head, streams of consciousness swirling around as they try to piece themselves together to form an image that is whole.

Light from the streetlights they pass filter in through the heavily tinted windows casting shadows that dance across Doyoung’s face. There is almost something about him in this light, in this moment, orange glow alternating with silver alternating with shadow in a way that makes him look worn down, tired. Taeyong frowns, his heart twisting at seeing Doyoung like this, in this state, like he’d finally been chiseled away to a mere sliver of his usual self. 

Taeyong knows it is because of the last couple of months of non-stop hunts, the way they kept getting assigned target after target. He also knows that it isn’t only because the Guild has deemed them competent enough to deal with the increased number of targets — although they are, objectively speaking — but it is also because Doyoung has a terrible track record of never turning down an assignment. And, if Taeyong’s being honest, so does he. 

The two of them have lived the last three years since their graduation from the Academy like they were in a never-ending race, no end goal in sight, just keep going, one foot in front of the other. It never mattered that their only competition was themselves, not each other, but themselves as individuals. They were their own worst enemies, in a way. Together they were a gratuitous loop of self-destruction into wish fulfilment, every successful hunt displayed like a trophy on some internal shelf of achievements. Validation of a sort only they ever understood or needed. 

Taeyong reaches across the space between the benches to tangle their fingers together. “Doie,” he says quietly and Doyoung jumps slightly, just small enough for Taeyong to notice but it is evidence that Doyoung is already slipping, the mask of a Hunter slipping off of him like the hood that now lies discarded on the seat beside him. Doyoung looks up at him and Taeyong gives his hand another squeeze. “Stop thinking so hard. You’re going to get wrinkles before you hit a hundred.”

Doyoung’s frown deepens for the barest fraction of a second before he finally relaxes, returning the squeeze as he lets the mask go completely and suddenly he is just Doyoung again, the man he’s known for over half his life. “Sorry,” he says, offering Taeyong a tired smile. “I just… I can’t help it.”

Taeyong offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile because he knows, knows that Doyoung will never really stop thinking no matter how many times he pulls Doyoung out of his own head. “I know. But stop, just for now. We’ll let my father take a look and then we’ll see what he says, okay?”

Doyoung sighs but he finally nods after a beat even though the tension remains in his shoulders and the hard lines of his neck. “Fine.”

“Good. Now, rest a bit. Turn your mind off before it runs you into the ground.”

Doyoung snorts. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“I’m being serious.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“Well, sorry for caring,” Taeyong sniffs, moving to pull his hand out Doyoung’s but Doyoung tightens his grip and gives his arm a tug. 

He looks up at Doyoung expecting to find that stupid, wide-mouthed grin he likes to offer Taeyong on days he is feeling extra petulant. Instead, he is met by a Doyoung who, for once, looks smaller than he really is, shrinking into himself as he meets Taeyong’s eyes. That has Taeyong doing a mental double-take to make sure it isn’t some trick of the light, shadows leeching the light from his eyes or making him seem smaller. But it isn’t. Something passes between them then, a silent question, and that’s all Taeyong needs to slip out of his own seat and into the seat beside Doyoung. 

Doyoung relaxes against him immediately, tension bleeding out of both of them at the contact, the warmth of each other comforting in ways Taeyong’s never really been able to explain. Doyoung rests his head on Taeyong’s shoulder, but he leaves their hands tangled in Taeyong’s lap and something in him settles. He gives the back of Doyoung’s hand a gentle rub with his thumb. “Rest. I’ll wake you when we get back to Headquarters.”

♰

They arrive back at the Guild’s Headquarters less than an hour later, faster than they would have normally courtesy of the late hour. Doyoung immediately springs to life when they round the last corner as if he hadn’t spent the last half an hour drooling over Taeyong’s shoulder. A light seems to have returned to his eyes, though, and Taeyong can’t help the relief that seeps through him at the sight.

The Guild Headquarters is sequestered in a large building made of metal and glass, typical of skyscrapers in Seoul. Spanning almost seventy floors, it is one of the tallest apartment buildings in the city, a sight that never fails to amaze Taeyong despite the fact that he’d spent the entirety of his life living  _ and _ training in this building. 

The driver takes them into the building through a side entrance accessible only by members of the Guild and into a basement level. The van comes to a stop outside what looks like a lobby that takes up the entire middle section of the floor — one that is also only accessible by Guild members. The secondary entrance had been a recent development, one implemented after some of the more senior Hunters had brought up the difficulties of bringing in fully turned wolves in through the publicly accessible elevator.

Taeyong, Doyoung, and the three senior Hunters that are their pick up crew for the night make their way into the lobby — a warmly lit, wood panelled space — the stretcher carrying the body in tow. It is a struggle but somehow they manage to squeeze into the tiny wood panelled metal box they call an elevator, the stretcher barely making it into the elevator completely. 

There is a sudden jerk as the elevator starts to move, shooting upwards at a speed faster than any normal elevator would and Taeyong’s stomach makes a swift drop into the balls of his feet and remains there until the doors reopen and they find themselves entering a lobby that looks like it should belong in a hotel instead of a Hunter’s Guild Headquarters. But the Hunter leadership have always had their preferences when it comes to Headquarters decor.

The lobby itself is all dark oak wood and burnished black metal finishings, the black marble floor polished to a shine so clear Taeyong can see his reflection in it. They pass under a giant iron-wrought chandelier, it’s black metal arms curved in a way that looks like fire sprinting from buds of metal flowers. It makes the room look a lot warmer than it should. 

Corridors branch off from the lobby — most of them leading to the offices of the few Grandmasters that reside in Seoul as well as the office of Seoul’s Counsellor — Korea’s representative on the Guild High Council. The place is quiet when they arrive, a ghost-town, there is no one else around, no other sound apart from the clacking of their boots against the hardwood floors. The air hangs still over them, heavy, and Taeyong can’t help but feel suffocated, the pressure of where he is and where he’s going pressing in on him like a kind of stagnant second skin. Then Doyoung falls into step beside him and suddenly he can breathe again.

They are brought down the far left corridor, Taeyong and Doyoung bringing up the rear of their strange company of Hunters, a gurney between them. The walk is familiar, a path Taeyong’s been treading ever since he was old enough to walk, but there is a difference between tonight and all the other times he’s walked this corridor a weight settling over him as he passes familiar paintings — the faces of Hunters long passed immortalised in oil and canvas, their faces stern as they watch over the rest of their brethren. 

A part of Taeyong has always wondered how they would feel knowing that the Hunters no longer hunt for the pleasure of it, but out of duty. A responsibility to the whisper thin Treaty that hangs between the arms of the four non-human species. He wonders if they would be disappointed that such an agreement exists even though he knows it is for the best.

They arrive at the end of the corridor, coming to a halt before a set of panelled double doors that open soundlessly under the hands of the Hunters. Taeyong tenses the minute it does and Doyoung’s hand is in his in a second, completely disregarding the fact that they are in the middle of the very public hallway of the Guild offices, a place where there is no such thing as privacy, not if it means giving up security for it.

Cameras glint overhead from every corner imaginable, no blind spot in sight. A necessity when the creatures you hunt can easily best you in both speed and strength. There are other failsafes too, built into the walls in the event that they are dealing with a target too strong for them. Not that happens often, if it happens at all. 

The Hunters wheel the gurney into the room before taking their leave without a word and Taeyong immediately mourns the loss of a prospective layer of human buffer between them and the man he knows waits on the other side of the door. Like the path to this office, he has been here countless times before. But never under these circumstances. Doyoung gives his hand one more squeeze before he releases it and they step into the room together.

This room is large, furnished in the same finishings as the lobby — all polished dark wood with black metal trimmings — and while it is supposed to be an office it looks more like someone had taken a desk and dumped it in the middle of someone’s personal library. The entirety of all available wall space has been lined by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with books filling almost every single one of the shelves except the ones in the furthest corners — those contain other things, models of weapons, sculptures, and small little trinkets probably confiscated off some rogue witch or other.

The man seated behind the almost obnoxiously large oakwood desk in the middle of the room looks up when they walk in, large dark eyes looking even wider behind a pair of elegant black glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He barely looks a day over thirty even though Taeyong knows he’s a lot closer to one hundred than he is to fifty — something he would never, ever say out loud because he values his life. 

The man takes them in, eyes darting from Taeyong to Doyoung, to the still covered body lying atop the gurney and Taeyong feels a trickle of apprehension run down his spine. Pushing past it, he takes a deep breath and steps forward, bowing slightly. “Father.”

“Taeyong,” his father answers simply, pulling his glasses off his face and setting them on the table. He turns to Doyoung and offers him a smile. “Doyoung.” 

Doyoung bows back and then his father’s attention is back on him. “What brings you to see me? You know I usually let the Masters and Grandmasters handle the cases.”

Taeyong dips his head slightly, gaze dropping to a particular spot on his father’s chest in an attempt to avoid a gaze that is far too piercing. “I know. We wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t something important.” The silver plaque on the desk that reads  _ Counsellor _ glints almost mockingly at him and he redirects his gaze back to his father who is looking at them like he is trying to decide if he should be proud or suspicious.

Eventually, he gets up from behind his desk to stand in front of them. He is a small, slight man, just a bit smaller than Taeyong is but Taeyong knows more than anyone of the strength hidden within that lean frame — no one could have ascended the ranks to Counsellor in such a short time if they didn’t have insurmountable skill backed by of equal if not greater caliber. It is something he has always been simultaneously awed at and terrified by. 

His father nods at him once. “Okay then, show me what it is you have.”

Taeyong gestures to the gurney and they walk over to it. He pulls off the cloth to reveal the girl and he feels both Doyoung and his father tense beside him. He takes a good look at her again and under the brighter lights of the room he can really see just how pale and drained she is, the way her veins seem so terrifyingly striking, blue-green against her pale white skin. And yet, the look on her face is so peaceful, almost like if he shook her gently she would wake up like nothing had happened. Another sign of a vampire feeding. 

His father moves around the gurney as he examines the body and Taeyong watches as his father’s keen eyes — even without his glasses — take in everything: from the way everything about her still seems tidy and in place to the bite marks on her neck and the other exposed parts of her that are completely blemish free. That is another that struck Taeyong as odd when they’d first come across her — there are no bruises, no signs of any kind of struggle, no signs of a typical murder or even an accidental killing.

“What do you think?” He asks quietly when his father finally comes to a stop and his eyes have stopped roving over every inch of the body.

His dad looks up at him, a frown creasing his brows as he crosses his arms and looks between the corpse of the dead girl and the both of them. “What do  _ you _ think it is, Taeyong? So many years of training and you can’t identify a simple vampire bite.”

The words pierce hit him like a slap in the face, the sharpness in his tone stinging, and he can’t help the way he winces like he’s ten again and being lectured for not knowing the answer to a simple question. But he keeps his eyes trained on the girl in order to avoid looking at his father, he doesn’t think he can handle both the disappointment in his eyes  _ on top of _ the glaringly obvious disappointment in his voice. “We know what it is, but there hasn’t been a vampire crime in Seoul in decades, much less a killing. I thought the Seoul Family was supposed to make sure things like this wouldn’t happen?”

“They are supposed to, yes,” his father answers, tone even as he returns his attention back to the body. He bends down to take a closer look at the bite marks. “But no one is perfect, maybe one of his vampires made a mistake.”

Taeyong frowns too, this time at the casual dismissal in his father’s tone. “So you really think it is one of them?”

“They are the most likely suspects regardless,” Taeyong’s father says, straightening up from his examination of the body. “Like you said, their very presence in our city greatly discourages other vampires from entering. I do not think any rogue vampire would risk angering them.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to speak but Doyoung cuts him off, stepping between them enough that half of Taeyong is safely behind him. “Doesn’t the Guild have some kind of arrangement with their Elder, the head of the Seoul Family? Do you think he can be brought in for questioning?”

The frown on his father’s face deepens for a fraction of a second and then it is gone, replaced by something closer to resignation. He sighs, pressing the ball of his hands into the ridges of brow bones — something Taeyong knows he only does when he is really troubled by something. Almost as if senses Taeyong’s concern, he removes his hands and replaces them with a smile, something Taeyong sees right through but chooses not to say anything about because it is nothing new. Not for him.

“I know him. I’ll speak to him,” his father says and both Taeyong and Doyoung immediately move as if to argue — god knows Taeyong wants to even if he doesn’t really know what it is he is arguing for at this point — but years of experience have made his father a lot faster than them and he holds out a hand, stopping them before either of them can say word. “I said,” he repeats with emphasis. “ _ I _ will speak with him.The two of you have done more than enough for tonight.  _ But _ , we will still be observing Hunter law — you found the body, this case is yours. I will pass on whatever information I get from him to the both of you and will leave the rest in your hands.” He claps Doyoung on the shoulder and brushes his palm against Taeyong’s cheek lightly. “Do us proud, hm?”

Both of them nod, in sync, and the smile on his father’s face becomes genuine for the first time that night, and leagues softer than any expression he’s shown since the moment they walked in. “I already am proud of you both, though. I hope you know that. I couldn’t have asked for better sons.” Doyoung shifts beside him and his father must notice because he chuckles slightly, his features softening further as he places a gentle hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “I know you still haven’t really accepted it, but you are and always will be as much my son as Taeyong is.” Some of the tension in Doyoung’s stance bleeds out and he dips his head in acknowledgement.

“I know,” he says, quietly. “Thank you.”

Taeyong’s father smiles, eyes creasing as he takes in the both of them with what could only be pride. “Good. Now, you are dismissed for the night. We will have someone take a closer look at the body to confirm the cause of death while I speak to the Elder. Both of you, go home. I will update you myself when we find out more.” His tone changes halfway from soft and familiar to firm — gone is his father, the mask of Seoul’s Counsellor falling back into place as he takes a step away from them and gestures towards the door, a clear dismissal. Doyoung and Taeyong bow once and step back out into the corridor.

Taeyong looks at Doyoung then, the exhaustion that had been slept off in the car has returned, the shadows under his eyes looking even more like they’ve been shaded in with some kind of charcoal. He reaches for Doyoung, gently tugging until there is barely any space left between them and Taeyong has to tilt his head back so that he can meet Doyoung’s eyes. He takes Doyoung’s hand in his, as uncaring of the fact that they are very much still in the middle of the corridor outside his father’s office as Doyoung had been earlier.

“Doie,” he says softly, and it takes a while but Doyoung comes back to himself slightly, enough to redirect his gaze back at Taeyong. “You okay?”

Doyoung attempts a smile and it comes across so crooked and so conflicted that he feels like his heart is being twisted around in his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Taeyong sighs, knowing better than to push Doyoung when he doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead he reaches up to brush the hair out of Doyoung’s eyes, smiling slightly when Doyoung leans into the touch. “Fine. I’ll let you have this one. But, you know that he means it right? My parents love you like their own because you are, to them. You are theirs as you are mine.” At his words — words taken from the vows they’d taken on the day they declared each other their Hunter partners — Doyoung smiles, for real this time, wide and warm and toothy, reaching all the to his eyes until they glitter unbidden in the dim hallway light. It loosens the knot in Taeyong’s stomach slightly and he feels like he can breathe easier again.

He gives Taeyong’s hand a squeeze. “As you are mine,” he finishes. “Thank you. I know your father means well, and he is my father in more ways than I can imagine but it’s just— It’s hard when I can still remember my own father. And it’s just… I know it isn’t but I don’t want to  _ replace _ my dad, you know?”

“I know,” Taeyong says softly. “And we’re not asking you to. But it’s okay to love him like one. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

Doyoung smiles, thumb rubbing circles into the back of Taeyong’s hand where he’s still holding on to it. “I get it. And I want to but it’ll— it’ll take some time.”

“And we know it will,” Taeyong says. “My parents have never expected anything from you, anyway. They were just happy to have another son.”

Doyoung snorts. “Oh I bet they really enjoyed the trouble we put them through as kids.”

“Trust me, I’m pretty sure my mother loved it more than she lets on,” Taeyong answers with a laugh. “Now, let’s go before father comes out to find us still here and then we will actually be in trouble.”

Doyoung laughs but his grip on Taeyong’s hands tightens and he lets him lead them home.

♰

It takes almost a full twenty-four hours before they are summoned back to Taeyong’s father’s office. In fact, Taeyong is right in the middle of trying to put together some semblance of breakfast while still completely muddled by sleep when the bell rings, shrill and loud, much too loud for — he glances at his phone briefly before he makes his way to the intercom — seven in the morning. 

The screen on the intercom reveals Donghyuck, standing there looking about as dead as Taeyong feels, still dressed in his Hunter garb. He must have come straight from his patrol. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the bed head he knows he has before pressing the button that will unlock the door. Donghyuck storms in like a man on a mission, which Taeyong supposed he is at this very moment. He winces slightly when Donghyuck tracks sludge onto the floor but thankfully Donghyuck knows better than to go further than the entryway.

He does stop to give Taeyong a very judgemental once-over, one that has Taeyong simultaneously wanting to cover himself up and wanting to give Donghyuck a good smack across the head. But that isn’t very becoming of a mentor. So instead, he says, “What do you want? You look like you haven’t slept.”

Donghyuck scowls and it is equal parts endearing as it is intimidating (because all the Trainees are scary levels of intimidating for some reason currently unknown to Taeyong). “Because I haven’t. I was on my way back from patrol when I bumped into the Counsellor. He sent me to get you.”

Taeyong groans, rubbing his palm against his face, there goes his idea of a good breakfast. As if in protest, his stomach lets out a miserable grumble and he has to swallow a sigh. He looks up at Donghyuck who is watching him expectantly. “Is this an official summons?” He mentally crosses his fingers.

“It is.” And there it goes. He can kiss his warm toast and hot cup of coffee goodbye.

“Fine. Got it. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Donghyuck huffs. “You better. I don’t think he was in a very good mood.”

Something about his tone has Taeyong waking up a little, a switch flicking on in his head as he looks at Donghyuck with widening eyes, the gears in his head already spinning, trying to piece together a whole picture with the scraps Donghyuck has just given him. “He’s upset about something?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Looks like it. Although, it’s not like I get to see him very often so I couldn’t actually say...” He trails off and the urge to strangle him returns somewhat.

He shoots Taeyong a very pointed look and Taeyong can’t resist going up to give his cheek a gentle pat, which only has Donghyuck twisting away from him, a look of mock offence written all over his face. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Taeyong says with a small laugh at Donghyuck’s antics. “And then you will wish that you saw him less.”

“If you say so,” Donghyuck says and for a second he looks very much the young man that he is, fresh into the Academy, eager for his first Hunt, barely an adult despite all the weaponry he is decked out in. For too much than should be brought on patrol but Taeyong is off duty and not as much in the habit of nagging the Trainees as Doyoung is.

“Trust me,” Taeyong says with another laugh before he grabs Donghyuck by the shoulders and spins him around. He gives him a gentle shove towards the front door. “Now, go away and let me wake up in peace. Tell the Counsellor we will be there in an hour.”

“I am not your messenger,” Donghyuck calls over his shoulder as Taeyong opens the door and pushes him outside.

Taeyong snorts. “Unfortunately, since you are currently on duty, you are. But, please try and get some sleep after, you look exhausted and I can’t have my Trainees in poor shape.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes but there is a small smile playing on his lips, enough for Taeyong to know that he’s won. “Yes, yes. But, you know we’re always in good shape.”

“Good _ bye _ Donghyuck,” Taeyong says exasperatedly before letting the door fall shut between them. It does nothing to muffle the sounds of Donghyuck’s laughter though and Taeyong collapses against the door, somehow feeling even more tired than he had been before this entire conversation. He loves the kids, he really does, but sometimes he feels like they will also most likely be the cause of an early demise.

A huff of laughter comes from the inside of the apartment and Doyoung walks out of his room with a glint in his eye that tells Taeyong he’d heard everything but had chosen to do it from the safety of his own room. He’s already dressed too in his usual t-shirt and jeans combo except he’d gone with all black again today. A by-product of the job. 

His smile only gets wider — gums and teeth coming into full view — when he sees Taeyong, still leaning against the door with his eyes half shut. “Was that Hyuck?”

“You know very well that was Hyuck,” Taeyong grumbles pushing himself off the door to walk straight into Doyoung’s chest who catches him with a soft grunt. “He says we’ve been summoned.” He mumbles into the soft fabric of Doyoung’s t-shirt, the faint combination of their laundry detergent and Doyoung’s body wash filling his senses for a moment and he feels himself relax.

Doyoung hums and Taeyong can feel the vibrations of it against his face. “I heard that too. You better get ready, we don’t want to make your father wait too long.”

“But I’m tired and hungry,” Taeyong whines, burying himself even more into Doyoung’s chest. 

This elicits another laugh from Doyoung but he steps away from Taeyong, keeping his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders to stop him from trying to wriggle his way back into Doyoung’s hold. “Go wash up. I’ll make you some toast.”

Taeyong immediately perks up, eyes going wide as he searches Doyoung’s face for any of the usual signs that Doyoung is lying but there aren't any and Taeyong can’t help the surge of gratitude that wells up in him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Doyoung laughs, shoving him down the hallway to his own bedroom. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

Taeyong smiles, and he twists under Doyoung’s arms to sneak in a quick hug before he dashes off to his room but not before he calls out a quick “I love you!” over his shoulder.

He gets ready in record time, foregoing a shower for a quick rinse of his face before pulling on his favourite black hoodie and a pair of jeans he’s officially deemed as his off-duty clothes. When he gets out, Doyoung already has his toast wrapped and ready so that Taeyong can eat on the way to his father’s office.

The walk over is quick considering that the residential units provided by the Guild are in the same building and only a couple of floors below the Guild Office floor. The ride to the top floor is different in the daytime; there are more people in the lift for one thing, and the lights seem brighter, warmer too although that could probably be attributed to them having just woken up from a much-needed sleep. It is a stark contrast still, though, to just two nights ago when stepping into the elevator had Taeyong feeling like he’d stepped into a cage.

He practically inhales his toast on the way, too tense and afraid to show up at his father’s office with toast in hand even if it is technically their day off. Not that it really matters for Hunters anyway when you could be called out on a Hunt at any time. They pass by some of the Masters and Grandmasters on their way to the Academy, with a few of them nodding to Taeyong and Doyoung in greeting. Most of them look far too busy to be paying them any attention, though, not that he minds. He’d much rather they not anyway. They were terrifying at the Academy and Taeyong still finds them terrifying now.

The Guild Office during the day is different too. There are other Hunters milling about, most of them at least a level (if not more) higher than both Doyoung and Taeyong. There is also faint sunlight streaming in from the windows at the far end of the hall, bathing half of it in a warm golden glow. It is a beautiful sight and he can understand why the Hunter’s Guild had chosen this floor in particular to be the official Headquarters.

The doors along the hallway to his father’s office are open now too, many of them revealing similar offices but each with their own distinctive quality, like how his father’s is practically a library on anything related to the Hunters and their history probably spanning back thousands of years.

They reach the office barely five minutes after they’d left their shared apartment and Taeyong knocks twice before letting himself in. Donghyuck had been right, his father really wasn’t in a good mood. Instead of sitting behind his desk like he had been that night, they catch his father mid-pace, chin in between two of his fingers and a frown on his face as he very obviously contemplates…  _ something. _

Taeyong clears his throat to alert him to their presence and he pauses only to give them a nod before he continues his pacing. Sunlight shines in through the window behind the desk, which helps make the place look a little more inviting despite the decidedly chilly atmosphere.

“You summoned us, father?” Taeyong says, eyes tracking his father’s movements as he wears treads into the dark wood floor.

His father literally freezes mid-step, head turning slowly as though he’d only just registered the fact that Taeyong and Doyoung are there with him. He places his foot down on the grown and turns towards them, before gesturing to the set of warm-looking velveteen couches tucked into one of the corners closer to the door.

They take a seat and remain silent for a good few minutes before Taeyong’s father finally speaks. “We have the results from the autopsy,” he says and his voice is stern and almost grave. “She  _ had _ been completely drained of blood but other than that there was nothing else on her, no other bruising or abrasions or signs of a struggle. Not a single finger mark”

Beside him, Doyoung fidgets and Taeyong is brought back to Doyoung’s observations of the girl the night of. He had been right. “That’s strange isn’t it?” Doyoung asks quietly. “For there to be no signs of a struggle. No hair or skin caught underneath her fingernails?”

“None,” Taeyong’s father says with a shake of his head. “It is almost like they’d been scrubbed clean before or after she died. They were almost  _ too _ clean.”

“Do you think it was something else then?” Taeyong asks.

“No. Because the evidence is undeniable. There are bite marks and she was completely drained of blood. But it is almost like whoever killed her had a strange preference for the way she needed to look. Even her hair had been kept in place.” Taeyong thinks of how she had looked, propped up against the wall like a perfect porcelain doll and he suppresses a shudder. “Other than that there is nothing to suggest foul play. I also spoke with the Elder and he has vehemently denied any involvement in this, citing his own string of rules that do prevent his Family and any other vampire in the vicinity from killing whoever they feed on.”

Taeyong wrinkles his nose at the term but Doyoung is already a whole step and a half ahead of it. Leaning forward, he asks: “Do you doubt him?”

Taeyong’s father sighs. He pulls off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose in some kind of attempt to steady himself. “I don’t. Not entirely anyway because I am familiar with him and his rules and this murder goes against everything I know about him. But, then again, it is always possible for things to happen, things that may or may not be under your control.”

“What do you want us to do?” Doyoung asks, firm, resolute, like they aren’t looking at the strangest murder the Guild has seen in a long time, like it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. 

Taeyong’s father straightens up and places his glasses back on his face before looking them both dead in the eye. “I want you to make sure he isn’t lying.”

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly, _greatly_ appreciated. (I would really like to hear your thoughts so please come yell at me, I promise I won't bite <3)


	3. Doyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong's father has given them a job to do. 
> 
> Now, all they have to do is figure out how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologise for being a bit late posting this but there are now _more_ things happening in this chapter.
> 
> Because of that, this chapter is only partially beta'd so any mistakes and inconsistencies are my own. 
> 
> Enjoy ♥︎

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

_Make sure he isn’t lying._

The order hangs over their heads when they get back to their apartment after the meeting with Taeyong’s father. He had looked them squarely in the eye and Doyoung had felt his words like a solid weight sinking deep into his chest. He knows Taeyong feels it too — the importance of it. Not just because the order came from the Counsellor — a rare enough occurrence unto itself — but because this will be their first official _case._ This isn’t just some target assigned to them on another one of their hunts but an _investigation_ , and one that they are in charge of. 

Taeyong collapses onto the old but expensive-looking couch they’d gotten off Taeyong’s parents with a loud huff, face down, head buried in the cushions and feet spilling over the armrest. Doyoung moves to sit over the bottom half of his legs, smiling when Taeyong yelps in surprised annoyance and tries to kick him off. Doyoung, however, is immovable and he knows that Taeyong is just making a show of it, a fact proven when Taeyong shifts just enough that Doyoung can sit in the gap between Taeyong’s legs and the back of the sofa. 

Doyoung trails a hand absently over the backs of Taeyong’s thighs, fingers kneading at the tight muscles — a product of their job. Taeyong lets out a particularly loud groan into the couch when Doyoung presses into a particularly tough knot and Doyoung focuses his attention on that for a while, allowing it to distract him from the pressing matter of how they should go about investigating a vampire Elder. And one of the oldest ones in the country too. 

Vampires, and all of the Other races, are not shy about their distrust for Hunters — a vestige of emotion from a time that’s long been buried. A time that, if you’re smart enough, you will never mention in front of an Other unless you wanted a fight on your hands. It’s been almost half a millennium since the last time the Hunters hunted Others out of hate but the memories are still there, especially in those old enough, and _they_ have never forgotten. 

Taeyong tenses underneath him when he hits another knot and he soothes over it in apology before returning to the task of unknotting his partner’s sore muscles. He doesn’t even know where to begin. How are they supposed to find out if a centuries old vampire Elder is lying? It is one thing to be sent to capture a fledgling witch who had been too careless with his magic. It is another thing altogether to be asked to come up with a plan of action that will somehow get an Elder to reveal all his secrets. 

“I can hear you thinking from all the way over here,” Taeyong grumbles into the seat cushion. “Shut up.”

Doyoung scowls and presses just a bit harder into the knot he’s massaging and Taeyong lets out another yelp. “I’m not even saying anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re thinking it. Stop it. I would like a couple of hours of peace before we have to start racking our brains again. And you should too because I know you, once we start actively working on this case, you’re going to dive so deep into it that you’ll forget to come up for air.”

“I won’t,” Doyoung answers but even he knows that’s only half true. Taeyong snorts and Doyoung sighs, releasing Taeyong’s leg as he allows himself to sink further into the couch cushions. “Fine. I probably will but you can’t fault me this time because this case is different and you know it.”

“I do,” Taeyong says, flipping around so that he is now facing upwards and can look at Doyoung. “But it is also why I am calling you out on it now, before it happens and you dig yourself so deep even I can’t dig you back up.”

Doyoung huffs out a laugh as he leans his head against the back of the couch, tilting it slightly so that he can still look at Taeyong who is giving him such a pointed look that more laughter bubbles to surface. He prods Taeyong’s thigh gently. “You’re saying that like you’re not going to be right down there with me.”

Taeyong sniffs. “Please. We both know that I have better self-control than you do.”

Doyoung glares at him. “You’re an ass.”

“But I’m right.”

“Doesn’t make you any less of an ass.”

Doyoung shoots him the dirtiest look he can muster but Taeyong only laughs at him. His fingers curl around Doyoung’s arm and he tugs lightly at it. “Stop being so difficult. Come here.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes but he lets himself be tugged down until he is sandwiched between Taeyong and the back of the couch, his head pillowed just over Taeyong’s heart. His arm falls around Taeyong’s waist naturally as he pulls himself closer, tucking himself right into Taeyong’s side fitting into the space there so perfectly it is almost like he belongs there, like it was made for him. Taeyong hums contentedly and Doyoung can feel it against his cheek and he smiles.

It’s always been like this between them, easy and free with their touches and affection. Doyoung’s always written it off as a side-effect of growing up together, of becoming so familiar with each other from such a young age that boundaries that should have been built never were and that was how it always was and, probably, always will be for them. Doyoung traces his finger over the spot he knows Taeyong’s tattoo lies, right above his heart, his smile morphing into a grin when Taeyong squirms a little underneath. 

They remain like that for a while, silent, just allowing themselves to bask in each other’s presence. Their apartment is silent too, no sound save for the soft constant hum of their kitchen appliances and the occasional footfall of people outside in the corridor. Otherwise, it remains a quiet mid-morning.

The sun is just starting to stream in properly through the window by the couch, casting its rays over the low, wooden coffee table and the sprinkling of papers and the singular book that lie scattered across its surface. They rarely have time like this, time to just be _them_ , not Doyoung and Taeyong the Hunters, just Doyoung and Taeyong, and Doyoung takes every second of it he can get. 

He thinks he almost drifts off for a moment, lulled by the quiet and soft, constant beating of Taeyong’s heart. Then Taeyong speaks, breaking the silence, and bringing reality crashing down on both of them again. 

“So,” he starts, softly, almost cautiously like he regrets having to burst their bubble of peace. “Any ideas on how we should do this?”

“So you were thinking about it too,” Doyoung counters and Taeyong groans slightly.

“It’s your fault. You started thinking first.”

“Sure. Blame it on me like you do everything else in life,” he grumbles, which earns him a light smack from Taeyong across his shoulder. He yelps and retaliates by slapping Taeyong on his chest but Taeyong just pinches him back on his neck. He shifts so that he can glare at Taeyong but Taeyong just sticks his tongue out at him and he collapses back against him. “You’re acting like a child.”

“So are you,” Taeyong retorts and Doyoung scowls into his shoulder. “But, seriously. We need to go think about this. I’m assuming dad wanted us to keep this as quiet as possible, which probably means that we will have to find some way to get close to him or his Family without them knowing. See if we can get some information out of them.”

Doyoung tenses slightly. “You mean like go undercover?”

Taeyong snorts but his hand moves to card lightly through Doyoung’s hair and he feels himself relax a bit. “What are we, spies? But I guess that is the word for it. We’re relatively new Hunters and we haven’t been involved with the Seoul Family before so I don’t think any of them will recognise us so it shouldn’t be too hard.” He pauses. “Don’t they own a string of underground Other clubs? Or was that the wolves?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the Vampires. Clubs don’t seem too much like a wolf scene, anyway,” Doyoung frowns, thinking about the club that had been relatively close to where the body had been found. “Besides, wasn’t the girl found just around the corner from one of their clubs?”

“You’re right. Doesn’t that make it more likely that he’s lying then? It could have been any one of them, easy.” Taeyong pauses. “Why didn’t we tell my father this?”

“We were probably too caught up with the girl, besides, they were the immediate suspects anyway since they are the only vampires around here. I agree that it doesn’t look good for them though.” Doyoung exhales, reaching out to tug on a loose piece of thread hanging off Taeyong’s shirt. “Do you think the Elder lied?”

Taeyong sighs and his hand slips from Doyoung’s hair to his back where he starts tracing patterns. “I don’t know. It’s more like, if it isn’t him then who is it? If he doesn’t let his own Family be that careless, there is no way he would take this lightly if this was a foreign vampire and yet…” He trails off and Doyoung knows he’s starting to lose him to his thoughts so he yanks on the thread, hard enough that it comes loose and Taeyong’s shirt comes up with it, almost startling him out of his thoughts. “What? Sorry…”

Doyoung shakes his head and smooths over the crinkle where the thread had been. “It’s fine, I could see you starting to get into your head so I thought I’d pull you back a bit since we still haven’t decided what to do.”

Taeyong sighs, turning over so that Doyoung is now face to face with his chest and then he is pulling Doyoung closer and wrapping his legs around him like Doyoung is some kind of glorified pillow. Doyoung lets out an undignified squawk when his face is pressed into Taeyong’s chest but Taeyong doesn’t let up until he has Doyoung completely wrapped up in his limbs. 

Doyoung tries to pull away but Taeyong’s grip is iron clad. “Yong,” he grumbles against his shirt. “Let me go.”

“Hush,” Taeyong says, squeezing him tighter. “I’m thinking.”

“Well, can you think in a more comfortable position?” 

“But I am comfortable.” 

Doyoung hears the smirk in his voice and groans. “But I’m _not._ ”

“Well, that’s too bad for you. Now, stop squirming, I’m trying to think about how we should do this.”

“Easy, we send one of us to the club. Like you said, no one should recognise us so we should be able to play our way into the hands of one of the Family members.”

“Great!” Taeyong announces, slapping him firmly across the back. “You do it then.”

“What?” Doyoung splutters pushing himself away from Taeyong so hard he finally manages to dislodge himself from Taeyong's ridiculously tight grip. He pushes himself up and stares down at Taeyong who is looking at him incredulously. “No. No, I’m not doing it.”

Taeyong sits up too and meets Doyoung’s stare dead on and it takes all of Doyoung’s willpower not to look away. “Why not?”

Doyoung crosses his arms. “And why not you?”

Taeyong gapes at him. “Because!”

“That isn’t even a reason, Yongie.”

“Well why not you then?” Taeyong half yells, smacking his palm down on a cushion in frustration.

“Because I’m a shit liar, Yongie. And I can’t…” He breathes deep, in through his nose and out through his mouth like he’d been taught before. He wills himself not to think about the idea of him meeting the vampire Elder in the corner of a seedy underground club. “I can’t _flirt_!They’ll see through me in less than a second.”

“What? What makes you think I can then!” Taeyong splutters, eyes wide. “I’ve literally only ever dated one person in the entirety of my life and we all know how that turned out.”

“Well, I’ve never dated anyone,” Doyoung retorts, shooting him a pointed look. “Besides, have you seen yourself, Yongie? Those vampires will be stupid to not be all over you.”

Taeyong flushes a bright red at his words. “What? What are you even saying? Me?”

“Yes, you!” Doyoung says exasperatedly. “You’re _pretty._ So pretty.” He reaches out to brush a hair out of Taeyong’s face and the flush on Taeyong’s face deepens. “Those vampires would eat you right up.”

“What?!”

Doyoung’s eyes widen. “Oh, fuck. Not _literally_ , obviously, but you know,” he gestures vaguely at Taeyong. “You know what I mean.”

“Stop exaggerating, Doie,” Taeyong says, curling in on himself as he buries his head in his hands. “I’m not…”

Doyoung sighs and reaches for him to pull his head out of his hands. “I’m _not_ ,” he says gently because it is true, he’s not exaggerating. Taeyong _is_ pretty. It’s something Doyoung’s always been aware since that very first day that he saw Taeyong when they were both kids, and Taeyong had stared at him from behind his mother’s legs, his bright, wide eyes that were filled with both curiosity and apprehension as Doyoung was introduced to him.

He’s obviously grown since then, the baby fat falling away to reveal a perfectly chiselled jawline and ridiculous cheekbones Doyoung’s been slightly jealous of on occasion. Everything else is still the same, though, his eyes are just as bright and wide and hopeful as they’d been back then. The rest of his features have fallen into place too, the delicate slopes of his nose and lips a contrast to the sharp lines on the rest of his face. Carved from the gods, that’s what Taeyong’s face is and Doyoung tells him as much.

He brushes his thumb over one of those pretty cheekbones. “Trust me, one look at you and you’ll have those vampires eating out the palm of your hand and who knows, maybe you’ll even get laid while you’re at it.”

“Doie!” Taeyong exclaims, cheeks so completely aflame now he looks a bit like a tomato. “You know we can’t.”

Doyoung winks at him. “What the Guild doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

Taeyong looks at him completely aghast like he’d just told Taeyong he was about to jump off the building. “Kim Doyoung! I can’t believe you, of all people, would say that.”

Doyoung chuckles but his neck tingles slightly and he has to resist the urge to press a hand to it. “I know, I know. I was just kidding. _But_ , I did mean what I said. _Everything_ that I said.” Taeyong swallows and looks away so Doyoung cups his cheeks gently and coaxes Taeyong to look back. “With your face, you could get anything you wanted and if you let me put a little bit of eye makeup on you, I’m sure you’ll be coming back drowning in all the hearts gladly given to you.” He shoots Taeyong a smug smile. “And maybe even their phone numbers.”

Taeyong pouts slightly. “Now, you really are exaggerating.”

Doyoung laughs and squishes his cheeks together. “Maybe just a little but I did mean everything about you being the most beautiful person I know. Please, you’d be the best person for this. Objectively, of course.”

Taeyong frowns, which makes his face even more squished in than it already is in Doyoung’s hands. “But… But what if it doesn’t work?” It comes out softer than anything else he’s said so far but Doyoung hears the real question behind it just the same. The ‘ _what if I’m not enough?’_ and it has something in his chest aching terribly. 

He releases Taeyong’s face in favour of taking his hands. “It will. Because you know what you need to do. This is a case and we have an objective and if there’s one thing that I admit you _might_ be better at than me-” 

Taeyong scoffs, interrupting Doyoung but he is immediately shushed. “As I was saying,” he continues giving Taeyong a pointed look. “You have always been the one to make sure we get the job done. But training aside, I know it will work because it’s _you_.” He offers Taeyong a smile, one that he hopes conveys everything that he’s just said and more and brings his hand to his lips to press them against his knuckles. “You’re more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Doie…” Taeyong’s voice is small and a little shaky and that is all the cue Doyoung needs to pull Taeyong into his arms properly, a complete reversal to the position they were in just moments before, and Taeyong positively melts into him. 

He buries his face in Doyoung’s chest and Doyoung brings his hand up to comb through the soft strands of Taeyong’s dark brown hair, whiffs of the vanilla from his shampoo wafting upwards just enough for Doyoung to recognise. It smells familiar and so much like home that Doyoung doesn’t even realise he’s pressing his face into the crown of Taeyong’s head to breathe in more of him until the strands are tickling his nose and he has to pull away. 

“Thank you,” Taeyong murmurs after a beat. “I can’t believe you just said so many nice things about me.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” Doyoung hums. “I think I used up my yearly quota for this.”

Taeyong snorts, flicking him lightly on the arm and that has Doyoung rumbling out a laugh too. “Thank you, though,” Taeyong repeats and this time it is sincere and he feels something in his chest swell a little. 

He leans forward to brush his lips lightly against Taeyong’s forehead. “Anytime,” he answers. And then he’s pushing Taeyong away — who makes a surprised noise at being manhandled — so that he can climb off the couch. “Now, you’re going to sit there and relax while I make lunch and then we’re going to binge watch that new drama you’ve been wanting to see. There will be no more talk of this until we’ve made full use of our day off.” 

Taeyong rolls his eyes at Doyoung’s tone but there’s a smile on his face as he falls back onto the couch. “Fine. Just don’t burn the rice.”

Doyoung chucks a tea towel at him.

♰

Of course, as life would have it, they were not able to make full use of their day off. Or even half of their day off. They’d barely finished the second episode of their drama before the incessant buzzing of both their phones rouses them from the post-food stupor they’d slipped into after lunch.

Doyoung gestures at Taeyong to answer, nudging him with his foot, which earns him an affronted glare before Taeyong slips off his end of the couch to grab his phone from where he’d left it on the kitchen counter.

“Taeyong,” he answers and Doyoung immediately perks up. Taeyong only ever answers like that when it is official business. He turns around but Taeyong is already walking back, a frown etched into his face as he comes to a stop in front of Doyoung.

He raises an eyebrow questioningly at Taeyong, who barely has time to mouth the words ‘ _the guild_ ’ before he has to respond to the caller with an affirmative. There is more talking from the other end of the line and Doyoung watches as his frown gets deeper before he finally hangs with a firm “we’ll be there right away.”

“What is it?” He asks as Taeyong slides the phone into his pocket.

"They're calling us in for a hunt."

Doyoung stares at him for a second, hoping against all hope that he'd just imagined the words coming out of Taeyong's mouth because this is their first literal day off in _weeks_ and his body is still aching from last night's hunt. But Taeyong is looking at him expectantly and Doyoung knows that he hadn't misheard. 

"Fuck," he groans. "Are you serious? What about all the other Hunters on duty."

Taeyong sighs but there's understanding in his eyes and he knows Taeyong is just as tired as him, if not more, considering they've been called in to see his father twice in the last twenty-four hours and Taeyong never really does well with those. Even if he never says it. 

"Everyone's been dispatched to other cities, you know they don't have enough Hunters there and Busan's Guild is swamped with a particularly bad vampire infestation."

"Guess we know where all the rogue vampires have congregated," Doyoung mumbles and Taeyong grants him a half-amused snort before he extends a hand to pull Doyoung off his very comfortable seat on the couch, which Doyoung accepts grudgingly. "Who are we hunting today?"

"Another witch," Taeyong says, grunting as he hauls Doyoung to his feet. "Two witches actually." 

Doyoung shoots him a curious look. " _Two_ witches?? And so soon after the other Hunt? That's a bit unusual for them, isn't it?" The witches have always been the quieter of the Others, the bulk of their Hunts being made up of stray Wolves and rogue vampires (although most of those occur outside Seoul for obvious reasons). 

Taeyong shrugs. "Maybe it's one of their special times of the year. Isn't midwinter coming up soon?"

"Hmmm.. It is. You're probably right." 

They split then, Doyoung heading into his room to gear up as Taeyong heads into his. It doesn't take them more than a couple of minutes to get ready, both of them slipping right into their Hunter headspaces as though they hadn't just been lounging about on the couch a couple of minutes ago. 

When they'd re-emerge, they are both decked in their Hunter uniforms — all-black pieces made out of an insulated material that will keep them warm without an outer layer despite the harsh temperatures of Seoul's winter. 

Doyoung has his crossbow slung across his shoulder this time, ready for use, his iron bolts hang from the belt around his waist in little satchels. He has an iron dagger strapped to the outside of his thigh just in case — it isn't often that they come across more than one target at a time and he doesn't even know what these witches have been accused of yet. 

Taeyong, on the hand, has one of his larger daggers hanging from his hips and a pistol strapped to his thigh, which almost takes Doyoung by surprise because Taeyong hardly ever uses a ranged weapon, preferring to get up close to his target. He must suspect a bigger fight as well. 

"Do we know what we're hunting them for?" Doyoung asks as they make their way out of their apartment and into the elevators that will take them down to where the Guild has a car waiting for them. 

Taeyong shakes his head. "Not yet. They only mentioned needing two Hunters to be dispatched immediately to deal with a couple of rogue witches and that they'd brief us properly along the way."

Doyoung frowns. "That's not standard protocol." The Guild has always been good about assigning them targets ahead of time to give their Hunters enough time to prep for the Hunt. Now, Doyoung feels like they're being sent in blind and he feels the unease that had settled within him when Taeyong had gotten the call wind its way up his spine. 

Taeyong glances at him and Doyoung hates that he sees worry in his gaze. "It'll be fine. Probably just a couple of witches getting overzealous about the holiday season. Nothing we can't handle."

♰

It is most definitely something they can't handle. 

The witches in question are not runic mages like the guy they'd hunted the other night. No, these witches are necromancers and necromancers who very obviously specialise in offensive magic, if the dead crows attacking them are anything to go by. 

The sky is darkening by the time they make it to the site and Doyoung almost misses as one of them swoops at him from above. He mutters a curse as he ducks and swings his dagger at it, slicing it cleanly in half, the iron burning through the magic with a hiss. Somewhere behind him he hears Taeyong shout something unintelligible before there comes the telltale sign of iron hitting bone and the bird disintegrates with a hiss and a squawk.

The witches in question haven’t even moved — two women, both of them with long dark hair and deep purple eyes. They would be beautiful if it wasn't for the manic look in their eyes, their gaze unseeing in a way that had sent shivers down Doyoung’s spine. They’d found the pair of them in a park somewhere in the northern part of Seoul, near where you’d find all the _hanoks_ and other buildings that look to be equally as old. Even now, they are standing unnervingly still, their hands in each other's and their eyes glowing like pinpricks of light in the steadily darkening park.

The crows had swooped in on them the minute they’d set foot in the park and they haven’t let up since. It has been a continuous barrage of claws and beaks, the smell of blood and death almost cloying as they'd fought them off. But it is hopeless, there is no end to them — it almost feels like for every crow they fell, another two take its place, and neither Doyoung nor Taeyong have been able to move any closer to the two witches than they’d been when they arrived.

The air crackles with the intensity of it, the magic, Doyoung can almost feel it on his skin like static electricity. That, coupled with the flapping of dead wings and the dull thunks of metal on flesh is something he never thought he'd experience in his life. 

He unstraps his crossbow and shoots a crow diving straight from Taeyong through its chest and it explodes in a puff of bones and feathers. He makes use of the brief opening to dash to Taeyong’s side, pressing his back against Taeyong’s as they try to scan the inky sky overhead for specks of black.

“Where the fuck are they coming from?” Doyoung hisses, ducking as another crow dives at them. He shoots that one too.

Taeyong jabs his head in the direction of the witches. “Look at their hands. They’re fresh.”

Doyoung spares a brief glance at the figures of the two witches, standing stock still in the middle of the park, their eyes blazing as they channel their magic into the dead birds. Sure enough, he sees the layer of red coating their hands and all the way up to their forearms, like they'd dunked their arms in a bucket of blood. It truly is a gruesome sight — two women, dressed in almost identical black dresses and covered in blood, Doyoung thinks he can even see the splashes of it on their face and he has to hold back the bitterness that rises in his mouth.

“No wonder they’re so freaking strong. They’re practically alive,” he grumbles, slashing at a couple of crows and hissing when one of their claws swipes at him hard enough to slice through his uniform and into his flesh. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Taeyong manages in between his own barrage of crows. 

“Fine. But we need to get to them before they call up anything worse than crows. Like humans.” He doesn't want to think about the land they are on, how old it is, how many people could have died here. 

He ducks a particularly nasty swipe, grabs Taeyong and hauls him into the cover of the trees although he’s not sure that will actually make a difference seeing as the crows are dead and all. He can still hear them, their dead throats making sounds that seem just shy of what an actual crow would make. It has Doyoung’s hair standing on edge, like nails on a chalkboard, noises that sound unbearably _wrong._

“You need to shoot them,” Taeyong says, breathlessly and Doyoung realises he’s been cut a few times also, blog streaking down the side of his face from a cut just above his eyebrow and his hair is plastered in some places.

“What? We don’t have authorisation to kill. Our orders were to bring them in alive.”

A couple more birds dive bomb them and they take them out before ducking further into the trees. “I’m not asking you to kill them. Shoot them in the shoulder, the iron in your bolts should prevent them from doing magic, at least long enough for us to get more iron on them. Like you said, we cannot risk them raising things worse than crows. As it is, we were called because humans found the dead birds wandering around. Fuck!” He yells when a particularly large crow with large, red eyes swipes at him, barely missing his cheek. 

Doyoung puts a bolt in it.

“I’m going to run out into their path, take them while they’re distracted.”

Doyoung nods but Taeyong is already gone, slinking out from behind the trees back onto the path that leads directly to the witches. Just as he suspected, the crows follow him, and the witches don’t take their eyes off him. Perfect.

He slips between the trees until he can get a clearer shot and then he lets his bolts fly, reloading faster than he ever has in his entire life. Just as the first bolt is about to land a crow swoops in to take it and he curses, but the second bolt hits the other witch square in her shoulder. She screams, a blood curdling cry that breaks the other woman’s concentration long enough for Doyoung to land a bolt through her shoulder. 

She doesn’t scream but she lets out a pained sound as she collapses on the ground beside the other witch, who whimpers as she tries to crawl her way closer to her. Around them, the birds are dropping out of the sky as the witches lose their hold over the magic. The lights in their eyes dim too as they watch Doyoung and Taeyong stalk closer to them, weapons out and ready in case the witches decide to strike again.

But they don’t. The first witch has managed to crawl her way to the other, who has an arm curled protectively around her. She glares at them as they approach but doesn’t do anything.

“You have broken Treaty law and exposed yourselves and our world to humans,” Taeyong recites as he approaches, dagger in one hand and cuffs in another. “The Guild has summoned you to stand trial for your actions.” He places the cuffs around the wrist of the witch glaring at them, who doesn’t even flinch when her skin starts to smoke against the iron and the blood coating her forearm starts to bubble.

Doyoung does the same to the other one, who lets out a small sob but remains otherwise silent. It is only when they've hauled the witches to their feet and are leading them out of the park towards where the car is still waiting for them that the witch speaks. 

“We've done nothing wrong. Your treaty doesn't mean anything to us” she says with a chuckle, her eyes gleaming as she smiles at them a little madly. “One day you will see. One day you will understand.”

Doyoung has to force himself not to shudder at the strange lilt her voice has taken or how she looks way too happy for someone who has a bolt in her shoulder and her hands in cuffs. Her companion doesn't say anything, just keeps her head down and her eyes trained on the path in front of her. A part of Doyoung almost feels sorry every time she lets out a whimper but law is law, and none of them are above it. 

It is fully dark by the time they finally get the witches into the car and Doyoung catches Taeyong's eye over the hood of the car. His cut has stopped bleeding, but he can still make out the welts of the scratches on his face despite the dim lighting and he's sure he doesn't look any better. 

He turns around to look back at the park, now littered with the carcasses of dead crows, shiny black under the light of the moon. He can still taste the residual magic in the air and it makes him almost queasy. He takes in the rest of the damage too — broken branches, feathers everywhere, the rips in his uniform, and the ever present stench of rkt that must come from the birds. He grimaces. This was definitely one of the most difficult hunts they have ever done, and their first time ever against witches trained in offensive magic.

And they were successful. 

He feels a little bubble of pride well up within him and he turns back to Taeyong who is looking at him a little quizzically. He shakes his head but offers Taeyong a small smile, that he returns with only a bit of hesitation. He holds onto that thought the rest of the way back to Headquarters, cups it in his metaphorical palm before he adds it like a personal trophy to the mental shelf that holds the rest of his successes. When Taeyong takes his hand halfway through the ride back and squeezes, Doyoung knows he's done the same. 

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it ♥︎
> 
> Bonus points if you can guess who the witches are ;)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and i would love to hear any and all thoughts and/or theories about what's going to happen:)


	4. Taeyong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks into the mirror, at the way his hair is styled into a perfect mess, as Doyoung calls it — strands are draped artfully around his face, giving the illusion of unstyled but gently tousled hair.
> 
> “Like what you see?” He turns to find Doyoung watching him from the doorway, shoulder propped against the edge of the frame as he takes in Taeyong through the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only mildly beta-ed and not completely edited but I wanted to get this out today so any mistakes you see are my own.

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

When they get back to Headquarters, they are both exhausted and more banged up than they'd expected to be from the Hunt. He knows the cuts on his face have started to heal and the particularly nasty gash Doyoung had received from a crow is also looking on its way there. 

The witches had been taken straight to the cell level, where they will no doubt be placed in iron-lined cells until they are questioned and the Council decides what to do with them. Taeyong stills, hand halfway to the keypad. He wonders if this will result in an execution. As the first actual attack on Guild members, on top of them blatantly casting magic in the presence of humans, it definitely will be on the table. If the Council rules against the Witches, it will mark the first execution this side of the century. 

Doyoung gives him a confused look but he just shakes his head and keys in the code to their apartment. He hopes it doesn’t come to that even though he cannot place whether the hope comes from a place of concern for their lives or for the mark it will leave on the Guild’s currently untarnished reputation. 

They stumble into their apartment, pulling off their boots and leaving them by the door to be sent for cleaning. They are covered in blood and ichor, which is what has fixed a layer of feathers to their uniforms. Taeyong flips the switch for the light above them in the entranceway and barely stifles a grimace when it highlights the states they are both in. He considers just taking off his uniform in the narrow hallway but Doyoung is already making his way into the apartment, trailing bits of feather and fluid behind him.

Taeyong sighs. Looks like they will be spending the rest of the week pulling feathers out of odd places. “Doie,” Taeyong calls out and Doyoung stops in his tracks. He turns to Taeyong, eyebrows raised and Taeyong takes in the parallel scores across his cheek that are still pink. Taeyong closes the distance, if only to take a closer look at his injuries. He frowns up at him. “You okay?”

Doyoung lets out a small bewildered laugh. “ _You’re_ asking me that? You look like you got mauled by an angry cat.”

“Try angry dead birds. Besides, these are just small scratches. You’re the one that got cut open.” He reaches for Doyoung’s arm, the one with the sleeve the bird had ripped into and Doyoung winces slightly. The gash has mostly sealed except for the topmost layer of it, which is still an angry-looking red. 

“It will heal, Yong,” Doyoung says but his voice is gentle and the look in his eye has softened. He places a hand over Taeyong’s. “I’ll be fine. But I do want to get out of these clothes though. I feel like I just took a swim in the dumpster of a chicken farm.”

“You look like it too,” Taeyong agrees with a small smirk, laughing outright when Doyoung scowls at him. “And it looks like the chickens won.”

“Shut up,” Doyoung grumbles, smacking him on the shoulder and shoving him in the general direction of his room. “Go shower. You stink.”

“So do you.” He turns back to Doyoung for a second. “ _Jjajangmyeon_?”

Doyoung moans before he nods eagerly. “Please.”

Taeyong grins. “First one out buys!” And then he’s disappearing into his room, the sound of Doyoung’s grumbling following him until he closes the door behind him.

♰

This is not what Taeyong was expecting.

It is the night after their Hunt with the witches, the Guild having seen fit to grant them an additional day off to recover, and Taeyong is reconsidering his decision to go undercover at the club instead of Doyoung. In fact, he is reconsidering choosing Doyoung as his Hunter partner. Why does he always let Doyoung talk him into doing these things?

They were about halfway through their late-night snacks (read: _jjajangmyeon_ and freshly fried sweet and sour pork) before Doyoung brought up their actual assignment again. During which he’d been able to maneuver Taeyong into such a corner that he couldn’t say anything but yes (not like he would have anyway, not when Doyoung had pretty much convinced him hours before that). That doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

He looks into the mirror, at the way his hair is styled into a perfect mess, as Doyoung calls it — strands are draped artfully around his face, giving the illusion of unstyled but gently tousled hair. They’re glossy too, the weird hair product Doyoung had worked into his hair giving it the effect that he has just gotten out of the shower. It looks effortless, almost like a slightly more polished version of himself — the edges sharpened, the surface polished to a shine he would never have managed on his own. It feels a bit like looking at himself in a warped mirror, like there’s something about it that is just... _off_.

“Like what you see?” He turns to find Doyoung watching him from the doorway, shoulder propped against the edge of the frame as he takes in Taeyong through the mirror.

Taeyong feels heat rise to his face but he forces it down and silently thanks the universe that Doyoung had been liberal with the foundation. He swallows. “I look…” he gestures wordlessly to his reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know what I look like.”

Doyoung laughs, pushing off from the door frame so that he can fix Taeyong’s hair and clothes like he is his own personal stylist, which Taeyong supposes he is for the most part. For tonight at least. He comes around to the front so that he can adjust the colour of the sleek, black silk shirt he has on, tucked into a pair of leather pants that he’s absolutely sure is not his. Or Doyoung’s. Unless Doyoung has a whole wardrobe of alternative clothing he doesn’t know about. He tries not to think about it. 

He looks back into the mirror again. Doyoung had even gone through the trouble of lining his eyes and dusting on some glitter eyeshadow that he’s absolutely sure belongs to Donghyuck.

Doyoung hums in satisfaction as he steps away to give Taeyong another one-over, his hand coming up to thumb at some fallout under his eyes. “You look hot is what you look like,” Doyoung says with a smug smirk. “I guess you do clean up well enough.”

“Shut up,” Taeyong scowls, smacking him on the arm.

Doyoung laughs again, light and airy as he moves to stand behind Taeyong so that he is looking at him through the mirror. “Alright, alright. You do look good though, if I do say so myself.”

Taeyong shoots him a look through the mirror. “You’re only saying that because you’re responsible for it.”

Doyoung grins, wide and toothy, the way he does when he’s being absolutely genuine. “Of course. Now, stop staring at yourself, we need to leave soon.”

It is only then that Taeyong realises Doyoung is already dressed. Unlike Taeyong, though, he is dressed in their standard Hunter uniform — already clean from their fight the night before. Straps and holsters carrying various weapons and ammunition lie across his chest and his hips, a bit of an overkill considering tonight is supposed to be a simple reconnaissance job but he figures neither of them want to risk being surprised by an attack like they were yesterday. 

His hood hangs loose around his neck and his crossbow from his right hip like a shiny, metallic bat. Doyoung looks good too, he realises, even without all the fancy glitter and eyeliner. Then again, Doyoung’s always looked good. For someone not born to Hunter bloodline, he wears the uniform a lot better than most of them do, the sleek, black suit looking like he’d been born with it already attached to his skin.

“What are you staring at?” Doyoung asks, snapping Taeyong out of his daze, and this time he really does flush, all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Did I forget something? Do I have something on my face?”

Despite his initial fluster, Taeyong recovers quickly. “Hmm? Oh, nothing,” he answers, grinning at Doyoung as he steps around him and out of his bathroom. That has Doyoung rushing after him and demanding that he tell him what it is _or else_ but, of course, Taeyong says nothing. Not even when Doyoung tries to unbalance him as he laces up his boots, or when Doyoung tugs on his arm as they make their way out the door. He doesn’t even give in when Doyoung threatens to leave the chores to him for a whole month. Although, he will admit that Doyoung almost got him with that one.

Doyoung is in the driver’s seat and pulling the mirror down so that he can check his face the minute they get to their car — a sleek, black sedan that has been modified to be resistant to both magical and physical attacks. A typical choice for most young Hunters, especially since the Guild usually offers to pay for it. Taeyong knows that they could have gotten a car each but they’d decided earlier on that they didn’t need the extra one and had chosen to save the Guild the additional expense.

Doyoung slams the mirror shut and turns to glare at Taeyong. “There is nothing on my face.”

Taeyong shrugs. “I never said there was. You freaked out by yourself.”

Doyoung reaches across the console to pinch him but he dodges at the last minute, smacking Doyoung’s hand away. “So this is the thanks I get for making you look pretty? I can’t believe you, after everything I went through. You are on your own in that club tonight. Don’t even think about asking me for backup.” 

Taeyong laughs, reaching across the console to give Doyoung’s arm a squeeze and putting on his favourite puppy dog eyes. “C’mon Doyoungie. You can’t leave me in there by myself.”

Doyoung glares at him. “Watch me.”

Taeyong is interrupted by the sound back door of the car opening and then Donghyuck is sliding into the seat behind him, dressed very much the same as Doyoung although with a lot less weapons strapped to him. A part of Taeyong silently thanks the universe for that. 

Donghyuck lets out a low whistle when he catches a glance of Taeyong in the rear view mirror. “Wow, look at you, hyung. Doyoungie hyung really did a number on you. You look amazing.”

Taeyong flushes, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands because he will ruin Doyoung’s handiwork. Beside him, he can practically feel the way Doyoung is beaming both physically and internally. “Thanks, Hyuck. I don’t really feel like myself but I guess that means Doyoung did a good job.” He pauses, turning around to look into the back seat. “Just you today?”

Donghyuck nods. “Chenle and Jaemin are out on patrol.” He grins. “They were upset that they couldn’t shadow you tonight.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, returning his attention to the front when Doyoung finally pulls out of the lot and takes them onto the road. “Don’t get too excited. Hunters aren’t allowed in clubs like these, especially in _that_.” He nods towards Donghyuck in the rear view mirror. “So, you’re stuck in the car with Doyoung.”

Donghyuck’s grin only gets wider. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I can think of a few ways to keep myself busy.”

Beside him, Doyoung lets out a small groan, which has Donghyuck starts cackling. 

The ride to the club takes them almost an hour, seeing as they have to go all the way back into Itaewon for this. For once, Taeyong is glad that Donghyuck is with them because he keeps up a string of conversations for the entirety of the ride that is just distracting enough to take Taeyong’s mind off the fact that within the next hour, he will be in a club surrounded by Others while he masquerades as a human. 

Not for the first time, Taeyong wonders if he can do it, if he can charm his way into getting information out of the vampire Family that owns said club. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he didn’t feel like himself, because he doesn’t. He feels like he is trapped in a layer of something, like something lying paper-thin over every inch of him, shielding him and suffocating him in equal measure. It makes him want to claw at himself, to turn around and go back home so that he can wash the paint from his skin.

Doyoung must sense the turmoil in his thoughts somehow — how exactly Taeyong’s never really known — because he reaches a hand across the console to take Taeyong’s hand in his. Doyoung’s hand is warm in his and the feel of it immediately calms the storm brewing in his subconscious although it does nothing for the urge to rip off this second skin, this other him, but with his thoughts quiet it is easy for him to push that aside and focus on the matter at hand.

Doyoung’s thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand for the rest of the ride and, for a moment, he is painfully aware that Donghyuck is in the car with them and that it probably isn’t proper for them to be doing it in front of him. But Donghyuck never breaks the momentum in his conversation and he never mentions it, so Taeyong lets himself get lost in the feel of Doyoung’s hand and Donghyuck’s voice until they arrive at the club.

They don’t arrive at the _club_ itself exactly. Unfortunately, their car would be too recognisable even if they didn’t do anything more than drive past and they cannot risk the vampires suspecting anything. Instead, Doyoung stops a block away from the street they know the club entrance is on because, of course, the club itself is underground.

Donghyuck’s chatter dies down as the car slows to a stop and Doyoung gives Taeyong’s hand a squeeze before he releases it and turns to him, all business. “Remember, whatever you do, don’t drink anything given to you by anyone. Keep your earpiece in and do _not_ let yourself get bitten. You don’t want to risk them finding out what you are before we get anything on them.”

“I know, Doie,” Taeyong huffs, reaching into the glove compartment to pull out the case holding his ear pieces. They’re tiny, black things, smaller than your average earbud and almost completely unnoticeable. “Don’t worry, this isn’t my first hunt.”

Doyoung frowns. “I know, I’m just…” He trails off and for a moment the facade drops and he can see the worry in Doyoung’s eyes and he realises why. This is the first time since they’ve started training and hunting that Doyoung won’t be with him, won’t be anywhere near him and he is _afraid._ Not for himself, but for Taeyong. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest, guilt flooding through him when he thinks about how he’d only been worried for himself and yet Doyoung had been worried for him the whole time.

“I get it,” he says softly. “I’ll be safe, I promise. And you’ll be able to hear everything through the ear piece anyway.” He offers him a smile that he hopes is more reassuring than he feels. “Just, don’t make fun of my flirting skills. I’ve had zero practice.”

Doyoung cracks a smile at that, and he nods. “Just don’t scare them away.”

Taeyong turns to look at Donghyuck who is pretending just a bit too hard that he hadn’t been listening to their conversation. “You, Hyuck. Listen to Doyoung. If anything happens, you do what Doyoung tells you, you understand?”

Donghyuck opens his mouth and for a second Taeyong thinks he is going to argue but he doesn’t. “Fine,” he nods, albeit extremely reluctantly and it has a smile tugging at Taeyong’s lips. He doesn’t understand how their demonic shadows have wormed their way into his heart but for some reason they have and he can only shake his head at the surge of fondness he feels at Donghyuck’s petulance.

He gives Doyoung one last look. “I’ll see you later, Doie.”

And then he’s slipping out the door and into the night. The fall night air whips around him, cutting into right through the thin pieces of his outfit that he is already regretting wearing. Even from here, he can already make out the faint thudding of the base, can even feel it underfoot if he focuses on it.

He rushes along the street, wanting to get out of the cold as soon as possible more than anything. In fact, he is so focused on making it to the clubs that he manages to stop worrying for the scant few minutes that he has between the car and where the club entrance is supposed.

Of course, that all comes back full force when he gets to the building that is supposed to be the entrance to the club. From where he is across the street, it looks like a large, refurbished warehouse — not unlike a lot of the ones used by hip cafes and restaurants in Seoul nowadays. In fact, the ground floor entrance looks like it leads into a cafe, one that is very obviously closed at this time of the night. The door, however, is open, and at the entrance stand two very large, very intimidating looking men.

Taeyong crosses the street and one of them turns to look at him, his eyes glowing silver for the faintest of seconds but enough for Taeyong to recognise him for what he is. A wolf. And he doesn’t doubt that the other guy is one too. Of course, a club that specifically targets Others would have wolves for bounces. Of _course._ Taeyong sighs inwardly, and he can’t help but hope the wolves don’t sniff out what he is before he can even get through the door despite the fact that it is virtually impossible seeing as Hunters are immune to the powers of Others. 

He does, however, hope that the process will be similar to that of regular clubs and that he won’t end up being grilled at the entrance. Thankfully, it is, the guards barely glance at his ID (although one of them does take a good long look at _him_ ) before ushering him inside.

The cafe is dark but there is a large metal door — like one of those made for walk-in freezers at restaurants — at the back that seems to be slightly ajar with faint pulses of multi-coloured light leaking through the bottom of it. There is a sign hanging off it, neon letters coming into focus the closer Taeyong gets to it. _Pandora._ Fitting. 

He pushes the door open and is hit with a loud wave of noise and music that he nearly staggers backwards from the impact. Air comes rushing out, taking with it some of the smoke that always seems to build up in clubs like this. The music blaring through the speakers is some kind of electronic beat and the bass is turned up so high Taeyong swears he can feel his ribs rattle from the impact.

The club isn’t that full, to Taeyong’s greatest relief, but it is definitely full of Others. Taeyong can make them out in a crowd; in a safe space like this, the flash of red, silver, and multi coloured eyes fills the room, what with many of them letting loose and relinquishing all worries that they might be found out by humans. 

There are humans, though, because what would an Other club be if they didn’t have their regular clientele of humans, many of whom are always too drunk to remember they’ve ever associated with a non-human creature. Taeyong sees a few of them dancing with witches and wolves but the flashes of red he’d seen earlier seem to have disappeared, which makes sense considering that there is only one vampire family currently residing in Seoul.

Giving up his scan, he makes his way through the crowd, ignoring the press of too-warm bodies against his skin and the way it smells a bit too much like sweat, alcohol and wet dog in here. Some of them manage to make a few passes at him as he cuts through the crowd but he makes it out relatively unharmed save for a slip of paper hastily shoved into his palm that he promptly drops in the case of it being a hex. Not that it will work on him, of course, but he’d rather be safe.

_“How are things going?”_ Doyoung’s voice sounds through his ears and he can’t help the relief that bubbles up in him at hearing his best friend’s voice.

“They’re… Going,” he says through gritted teeth. “There are so many people here.”

On the other end of the line Doyoung chuckles and Taeyong feels it wash over him like a gentle breeze. _“It is a club, Yongie. What did you expect?”_

Taeyong ducks his head, shielding his mouth with his hand as inconspicuously as possible as he weaves his way through the throng of people gathered around the bar. “I don’t know!” He hisses, hoping that the earpiece can pick up his voice over the music. “You know I don’t do this often.” Someone jostles in and he has to bite back a curse, not wanting to start any fight when he is supposed to be laying low and trying to find the vampires. “Okay, I’m getting myself a drink, you are responsible for making sure I get home okay because you _know_ I can only drink like two shots max.”

There is a crackle in his ear and then Doyoung speaks again and Taeyong can just hear the smile in his voice. “ _Relax, Yongie. You’ll be fine. Just, don’t drink more than your limit. And don’t let any cute boys buy you drinks.”_

Taeyong sighs. “That’s not going to happen. Anyway, stop talking to me, I look ridiculous standing here talking to myself.”

_“Fine. Be safe. I’ll be listening anyway.”_

Doyoung’s voice disappears and Taeyong almost regrets asking him to maintain radio silence because now it is just him in this large crowd, surrounded by way too many Others for him to feel mildly comfortable. He figures he might as well indulge in that one drink though, or he’s not going to be calm enough to coax information out of anyone let alone a vampire who is probably centuries older than him. 

He shoulders his through the groups of Others congregating, most of them barely noticing his existence although he does catch the eye of a rather pretty witch, whose purple eyes twinkle at him through the darkness of the club. The witch winks at him and Taeyong flushes, ducking past them to get to the safety of the bar. Taeyong hears laughter sound from behind him, light and pretty, but he doesn’t follow and Taeyong thanks the universe for that. The thought of charming vampires had been intimidating enough, he doesn’t think he wants to try going against the smart mouth of a witch, who would probably sniff him in less than five minutes.

He collapses against the cool surface of the bar, sandwiched between two burly wolves who don’t even seem to notice that he is there. Thankfully, the bartender (another pretty witch) _does_ notice him and he strolls over to where Taeyong is waiting. The witch smiles at him, a lot kinder, and with a lot less teeth than the other one had although his gaze pierces him the same way, like a dagger through already melted butter, and Taeyong has to swallow against his instincts that are screaming at him to reach for his weapons, even if just to feel the smooth metal against his palms.

The witch frowns at the two wolves before he waves a hand and Taeyong sees both the wolves jerk like they’ve just been prodded with a silver poker, which, for all he knows they might have given that they are currently glaring daggers at the witch behind the counter. The witch only smiles as he waves them away and beckons Taeyong to come forward.

“Don’t mind them,” he says (read: yells over the music) gesturing over Taeyong’s head to where he assumes the wolves have disappeared to. “They sometimes forget that people smaller than them exist. I didn’t hurt them, if you were wondering. Just gave them a little jolt.”

Taeyong shakes his head and offers the witch a small smile, if only this witch knew he’s given wolves more than just small jolts. “Thank you,” he half-yells instead and the witch beams.

“Now, what can I get you? I haven’t seen you before so I’m assuming you’re new to this, uh, scene.”

Taeyong has to hold in a snort, knowing what the witch is implying, but he also knows that that is his role to play for the evening — the shy, nervous human newcomer who has never been to a club quite like this one before. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to completely fake the nerves, though.

So he laughs, small and light, allowing his fingers to pluck absently at the stack of tissues in the holder in front of him. “Yeah, I’m new to the area. I heard from a friend that this was one of the good clubs. Whatever that means.” He offers the bartender a shy smile and prays that the witch doesn’t see through his act.

Thankfully, it seems to work. The bartender’s eyes soften slightly, the gleam going from a bright blue to something much softer if no less dull, and he reaches across the counter to give Taeyong’s hand a little pat where he’s started to rip into the top piece of tissue. “Don’t worry, this place is great. The boss here is strict on there being no fights here, and no rowdiness. We’re all just people here to have a good time.” He shoots Taeyong a wink, which has him flushing to the tips of his ears and he really, _really,_ just needs that drink.

He laughs nervously, hating that this one is completely genuine. “That’s- That’s great. Could I, uh, could I get a vodka cranberry, please?”

_“Seriously?”_ Comes Doyoung’s voice in his ear but he ignores it.

The witch, on the other hand, accepts his order without question and immediately busies himself with Taeyong’s drink. Taeyong takes the time to assess the situation — the club has gained a couple more people since he’d arrived at the bar, and the bartender at the other end seems to be completely swamped with the horde of Others that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The music has gotten louder too, probably to make up for the increase in patrons and yet, Taeyong doesn’t see any flash of red amongst the other colours.

He ducks down, stifling a sigh. It’s looking like it’s going to be a long night and the music is already starting to make his head throb. The bartender returns with his drink, his card and a pretty smile on his lips and Taeyong allows himself to relax just a little bit. At least he has… he pauses. He doesn’t even know the bartender’s name and the man isn’t wearing a name tag but, at the very least, Taeyong seems to have found an ally of sorts. Not to mention the guy works here, which means that should at least know one of the vampires.

He takes a sip of his drink, wincing when the taste of alcohol cuts through the sweetness of the cranberry juice and turns back towards the dance floor, now nothing more than writhing mass of bodies. The thought of having to join them has him considering walking back out of the club but he knows that he’s not going to get anywhere if he remains by the bar nursing his sad, singular drink for the rest of the night. 

Taking a deep breath, he tips the contents into his mouth at one go, ignoring the way the alcohol goes down strong and bitter and then spreads through him warm and heady. This isn’t enough to get him drunk but it is more than enough for him to start feeling it’s effects almost instantly. He places the glass back down on the bar counter, wincing when it connects with the surface a little too loudly. The bartender gives him a worried look as he takes the glass from him before he can cause anymore damage.

“Are you good?” The witch asks, genuine concern lacing his voice. “I made it a bit stronger than normal because you looked like you needed it but I didn’t think you’d be this weak.”

Taeyong waves him off, trying to ignore the way the room seems to spin along with him. “I’m fine. Thank you. I did need it.”

The witch still looks uncertain about letting Taeyong wander off on his own but his attention is demanded by another customer almost as soon as he has Taeyong’s glass out of the way. Before he leaves, grabs Taeyong’s shoulder and gives him a long hard look. “If anything happens, if you need anything, come back here, okay? Ask for Ten.”

Taeyong smiles, the alcohol already dulling his senses and making everything seem just that much more hazy and out of focus. “Ten,” he repeats. “That’s a pretty name.”

Ten gives him one last worried smile. “Thanks. Just don’t forget it.” And then he’s gone, back up the middle of the bar where a group of humans are waiting for him.

_“Yong,”_ comes Doyoung’s voice in his ear and despite being this inebriated he can hear the worry in Doyoung’s voice. _“Hey, are you okay?”_

Taeyong nods even though he knows Doyoung can’t see him. “I’m fine. Just needed to loosen up a little. I’m going to go dance a little, see if I can find anyone on the dance floor.”

_“Okay. Be careful.”_ Doyoung sounds about as uncertain as Ten had looked and part of Taeyong feels slightly guilty but the other part of Taeyong feels a bit too good to care about anything at the moment.

“I will,” Taeyong hums. The alcohol has fully hit him now and the room isn’t so much spinning as it is pulsing, he can feel the beat of the music against his skin and it tingles a bit like a live wire. The lights have taken on a strange quality where they look almost stretched out and elongated, much like a camera tuned to have a slower shutter speed. He feels dazed almost, but like the good kind of dazed, a state where his nerves from earlier have practically faded and yet he is not so out of it that he won’t be able to get the job done. He considers it a win, even if it means a slight loss in motor control as he stumbles his way onto the dance floor. 

The dance floor itself is a large area in the center of the club surrounded on all other sides by booths and couches where the slightly more well-off customers reside. Not all of them are occupied but a good half of them are, drinks and bodies spilling out over the barricades that block them off from the dance floor proper.

Taeyong squeezes himself through the crowd of bodies until he is standing near the opposite edge of the dance floor, which gives him a good enough view of the booths at the book and, more importantly, gives them a view of him. He lets himself loose, allows himself to get lost in the beats of the music, his agility training coming into handy here as he plays his body to the music. And he does all of this while still keeping an eye on the booths, on the lookout for a telltale flash of red.

Of course, in complete vampire fashion, Taeyong doesn’t see them until they are almost upon him. The only warning he gets is a brief flash of red in the darkness, the brief glimpse of the strobes reflecting off pale skin before he finds himself face to face with one. Like all vampires, he is beautiful, his eyes aren’t bright red now but Taeyong can still make out the dull glow of them like rings of a deep scarlet. The rest of his features are soft, delicate, a juxtaposition to the gaze he lays on Taeyong.

The vampire smiles, his fangs flashing and then he is slipping his arms around Taeyong’s waist and pulling him closer. Taeyong has to bite down on the instinct to push away, instead allowing himself to be pulled until they are almost flushed against each other, Taeyong reciprocating by winding his arms around the vampire’s neck, a coy smile playing on his own lips.

“Hi,” he says, the perfect amount of shy and playful thanks to the alcohol flowing through his system. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The vampire’s smile widens, clearly pleased, and the sober part of Taeyong feels like he might throw up. “No, the pleasure is all mine. We don’t get new faces here very often, much less one like yours.”

Taeyong cocks his head and winds his arms just a bit tighter around the vampire’s neck, allowing his fingers to curl in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “Like mine?”

The vampire hums, leaning in close enough for his cool breath to ghost over Taeyong’s lips and Taeyong catches the faint whiff of alcohol and cigarettes in it. “You’re very pretty.”

Taeyong smiles but his heart is beating double time now because even a Hunter isn’t immune to the effects of a hot guy telling them that they are pretty. And he’s sure the vampire’s picked up on it. “Oh, am I now?” he says anyway, refusing to give in.

The vampire licks his lips, tongue darting out and Taeyong can’t help but follow the motion and his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. The vampire takes it as his cue to lean it but Taeyong barely allows their lips before he is pushing the vampire away with a laugh that is the epitome of playful and flirtatious. He bats his eyes at the vampire who is looking at him in mild shock. “At least buy me a drink first. I don’t let just any handsome stranger kiss me, you know?”

At that, the vampire relaxes slightly and Taeyong realises he might have thought he was being rejected for real. Smiling, he reaches for Taeyong’s hand and drags them off the dance floor to one of the booths at the back of the club, in an area completely separate from even the other booths. Taeyong gives himself a mental pat on the back for picking that spot on the dance floor.

The booth is large, a round u-shaped sofa curves around a low black table that is filled with buckets of ice and bottles of liquor that are way above Taeyong’s pay grade. Despite the large booth and numerous bottles, there is only one other person (vampire) seated there. He is well-built with soft, lightly tousled brown hair, a huge contrast to the other vampire’s ice blond, and when he smiles at them in greeting Taeyong swears his heart does a somersault against his will because: _dimples._

His smile is sweeter, with a lot less teeth and he raises an eyebrow at the other vampire when he gestures for Taeyong to take a seat. “Already, Yuta?” He asks, amused and with a voice way too deep for a face that looks as soft as his. “You were barely gone five minutes.”

The other vampire — Yuta — who’s wound his arm back around Taeyong’s waist just shrugs. “I saw him from here.” He gives Taeyong’s waist a little squeeze and Taeyong has to resist the urge to jab him in the ribs. He looks over to find Yuta already smiling at him. “He was pretty.” That has Taeyong blushing again, more from embarrassment than anything else, and he looks away before they notice just how red he actually is..

The vampire with the dimples snorts before turning to address Taeyong. “Don’t mind Yuta, he’s like a magpie. Except he prefers pretty things to shiny. I’m Jaehyun by the way.” He extends his hand and Taeyong takes it, trying not to marvel at the fact that it practically dwarfs his own and is a lot colder than even the air in the club.

“Nice to meet you,” Taeyong says, giving his best shy smile and Jaehyun returns it. “I only asked Yuta to buy me a drink, I didn’t think he’d have a table, much less bring me to it.”

Jaehyun laughs at that, eyes creasing into little half-moons while his dimples deepen and Taeyong thinks a part of him is starting to understand why there are humans who are willing to let vampires feed off them. “Oh, sweetheart. Yuta is one of the owners. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Most of the people who come here do.”

Something in Taeyong, the Hunter part, flares up at that. At the knowledge that there are humans coming to this club with the knowledge that vampires exist when they shouldn’t, because it goes against everything the Other races have agreed upon. But he tamps it down because now is neither the time nor is this the case. He does make a mental note to pass this on to the Guild, although he’s sure Doyoung would have realised as well.

“Well, at least now you know I’m not here for your money,” Taeyong answers, looking at Yuta who huffs out a laugh at the cheek in his tone. “Actually,” Taeyong continues. “This is my first time here with… You know…” he trails off, gesturing at the both of them. 

“What? With vampires?” Yuta asks, and Taeyong nods wide-eyed, playing up the innocent act as best as he can.

Yuta and Jaehyun’s gazes immediately soften, which takes Taeyong by surprise because he had been expecting something a lot more, well, _hungry._ Especially considering that he had just admitted to being easy prey for a vampire. “It’s really not that much different,” Jaehyun says. “If we take a liking to you, we’ll chase you the regular way, you know, like the way humans do. I’m hoping that’s what Yuta did with you, at least.” He gives Yuta a pointed look who responds to it with a scowl, which is accompanied by the tightening of his hold around Taeyong.

“Hey! What do you think I am?” Yuta exclaims, affronted and Jaehyun laughs.

“An asshole at the best of times.”

“You,” Yuta starts. “You are not wrong there.”

Taeyong looks between them with interest. “Is there something I need to know about Yuta here? Like should I have left him back there on the dance floor?” He delivers what he hopes is a flirtatious smile as he looks up at Yuta who looks at him aghast while Jaehyun laughs in the background.

“Hey!” Yuta says. “I was nice to you. Wasn’t I?”

Taeyong merely hums as he reaches up to give Yuta’s cheek a soft pat. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Yuta freezes eyes wide, the red boring into him. “Did you just. Did you say I’m cute?”

Taeyong laughs, leaning into him as he casually brushes a strand of hair out of Yuta’s face, watching as Yuta tracks the movement as much as he can. “I wouldn’t have followed you back here if I didn’t think so,” he says, dropping his voice low and when Yuta swallows, Taeyong knows he has him. 

“And I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Jaehyun says, standing from the table. He gives them a knowing look before adding: “And please don’t fuck in the booth. We just got the seats reupholstered.”

Taeyong flushes and he swears if Yuta had his own blood coursing through his veins, he would have flushed too. As it is, he can only give Jaehyun an embarrassed half-nod before the Jaehyun disappears deep into the crowd.

Yuta returns his attention to Taeyong and the hunger he had been expecting the whole night is finally there. His eyes, which had been a slightly darker wine colour, are now a bright red and Taeyong can just make out the tips of his fangs peeking out from beneath his upper lip. 

“So,” Yuta says, leaning even closer and Taeyong really tries to not pull away but Yuta bypasses his lips and goes straight for his neck. He noses his way down the slope of his neck, his breath ghosting just a lick cooler than the temperature of the air, and Taeyong clutches at his shirt, more in an attempt to maintain some semblance of control than anything else. His lips brush against the point just over his jugular and Taeyong has to suppress a shiver. “How do you want to do this?”

“I-,” Taeyong begins, forcing himself to sound just a bit more breathless than usual. “I don’t know. I’m a bit. Afraid.” He clutches tighter at Yuta shirt, ready to shove Yuta away at the first sign of teeth on his skin. “Will I die? Have you-,” he is cut off by Yuta lapping at a spot on his neck and he lets out a strangled sound that has Yuta chuckling. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

At that Yuta stops, pulling away to look at Taeyong with concern and Taeyong heaves an internal sigh of relief that it isn’t suspicion. He reaches to cup Taeyong’s face gently, thumb brushing light over the curve of his cheekbone and this time Taeyong is the one who gulps. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable we don’t have to do this. But, to reassure you, no, I haven’t. Not since I was a fledgling and that was well over two hundred years ago. Besides, Johnny will not let us live if we’ve hurt a human, much less kill them so I promise that I will be careful.”

Taeyong leans into the touch lightly, puts on a confused expression. “Johnny?” Taeyong asks. There is a crackling in his earpiece and he briefly wonders what Doyoung is doing.

“The head of our Family. He doesn’t like unnecessary bloodshed,” Yuta answers. “But, seriously, if you’re not down for the feeding you don’t have to. I just assumed you were here for it because most humans that come are.” Once again Taeyong feels the hot flare of annoyance in his gut but he tamps it down immediately. Yuta allows his hand to fall from Taeyong’s face so that he can run it down Taeyong’s arm. “We can always just… Go over to yours?”

Taeyong freezes for a second as his brain processes the suggestion, the implication, the fact that he’s just been propositioned by a vampire, and then he is backpedaling, tripping over his own mental feet. He lets out a shy, sheepish laugh that comes out slightly panicked to his own ears. “I- You don’t want to come over to mine, it’s a dump.” He pauses, pouts, throws on his best hurt puppy look because there is no way in hell he can bring Yuta over to the Guild, their investigation would be over before it could even begin. “Why can’t we go over to yours? You own this club right, I’m sure you live in place much nicer than mine. Probably more comfortable too.”

It is Yuta’s turn to look sheepish, and Taeyong can almost see the way the gears are spinning in his head and he prays that he hadn’t been as obvious. He turns away, scratches the back of his neck before answering. “Uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to mine either. We, uh, there are a lot of us that live at my home and just, well, right now is not a good time for me to bring someone home, much less someone human.”

Interesting. Taeyong is curious but he knows not to push any further. Instead, he offers Yuta the widest smile he can muster as he slips his arms around Yuta’s neck to pull him closer. “Hmm, I guess we can just make out here then.” He leans closer until their lips are almost touching and lowers his voice even more. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” Yuta breathes, his eyes flashing a dangerous red. And when he closes the gap, presses his pretty pink lips against Taeyong’s, Taeyong can only pray that it will end soon.

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♡


	5. Doyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Doyoung is conscious of the way they fit against each other, the way Taeyong feels pressed against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally back! I'm sorry but I haven't been able to find the right time to post the update because of all the other fics I've posted recently but I'm here <3
> 
>  **Trigger Warning!**  
>  This chapter has some triggers, so if you're sensitive to dissociation and dissociative episodes you can skip the section from "Doyoung can still see the disbelief..." all the way up til "The water is warm". Please take care of yourselves ♥︎

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

The line goes silent as Taeyong disconnects and Doyoung is left with nothing but his thoughts and the sounds of Donghyuck doing god only knows what in the backseat (Doyoung thinks he might be sharpening his knives but he’s not sure he wants to look). He tries to take stock of the situation, tries to gather everything that Yuta said into something cohesive — something he can use to take them a step further into the case. 

What Taeyong had gotten wasn’t much, just Yuta mentioning (again) that there was no way it could have been any one of them and yet, something Yuta had said isn’t sitting right with him. _Johnny._ The name of the Elder floats to the front of his mind but he shoves it away, as far down as it can go, deep into a locked box that he can toss into the churning waves of his consciousness, never to be seen again. Johnny isn’t the issue here.

Yuta had said that Johnny would not let them live if they hurt a human, which seems about par for course considering what the Guild knows about the vampire Elder. But Yuta had also mentioned something else. _Now is not a good time to bring someone home._ Why? Doyoung frowns, fingers drumming an incessant pattern along the curve of the steering wheel as he tries to put these haphazard pieces of an incomplete puzzle together. If the Family really was harmless what reason could they have for not wanting to bring a human home?

 _We can always just… go over to yours._

Yuta’s words echo in Doyoung’s mind like it had been said to him instead and he is hit with a sudden mental image of Taeyong and a pale, shadowy figure backing him up against the wall of their shared apartment. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel and he forces the image away. It wouldn’t be the first time either of them brought someone home, not that it happens often, not with the way their lives are like. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth anyway and he is suddenly thankful that Taeyong had turned off his mic. He pushes it to the back of his mind, locks it into another box.

Doyoung reshuffles his thoughts, focuses on the bits of information Taeyong managed to glean from Yuta instead, especially the fact that, regardless of whether or not it was someone in their Family who killed the girl, they were definitely hiding something. He sighs, leaning forward to lay his head on the steering wheel.

“You know,” Donghyuck says and Doyoung starts, nearly smacking his forehead onto the car horn, a sure sign that he is more tired than he feels. “I’m surprised you’re okay with this.”

Frowning, Doyoung turns around to look at Donghyuck who does actually have his knife in hand as he meets Doyoung’s gaze. “What do you mean? Okay with what?”

The knife spins in Donghyuck’s hands and he jerks his head in the general direction of the club. “Taeyong-hyung. Going into the club and making out with vampires for information. I’m surprised you’re okay with it.”

Doyoung’s frown only deepens. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is an investigation and we needed information. One of us had to do it.”

Donghyuck sighs like he is the Novice and Doyoung is the trainee before giving Doyoung a very pointed look. “Because you’re dating? I know that I wouldn’t like the guys I’m seeing making out with strangers, especially not a vampire, even if it had to be done.”

Donghyuck’s words feel like shards of glass against his skin and he has to take a breath to will the sting away. “Your—” and then he pauses as his brain tries to play catch up. “Wait, what?” Dating? _Guys?_ “Taeyong and I aren’t— Why would you even—” 

His brain comes to a screeching halt as he tries to process Donghyuck’s words, torn between acknowledging the idea that Donghyuck thinks he and Taeyong are dating and the fact that Donghyuck had mentioned seeing guys. In plural. Actually, he doesn’t know if he wants to know about Donghyuck’s love life. 

“Taeyong and I aren’t like that,” he says with a groan, choosing to deal with the more obvious issue. “He’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh,” Donghyuck says, sounding for all the world like he believes that as much as he believes fish can fly. “You know those two things aren’t mutually exclusive, right, hyung?”

Doyoung lifts his head to shoot Donghyuck a withering look. “And? That doesn’t change the fact that Taeyong and I aren’t dating.”

Donghyuck sheaths his knife and leans forward in his seat, chin in his hands. “Are you sure? Because I’ve seen the two of you together. You act more like a married couple than my parents do, and they’ve been married for over fifty years.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. Now he _knows_ Donghyuck is exaggerating. “No we don’t. We’re just used to each other, we’ve lived with each other for most of our lives. We’re just comfortable.”

Donghyuck leans back in his seat, arms crossing, the dagger still swinging limply from one of his hands. “Right. And you’re sure you don’t have-,”

“I _don’t_ , Hyuck,” Doyoung says in a tone firm enough to brook no arguments, not even from Donghyuck. Doyoung can still see the disbelief there though but he is spared further interrogation when the passenger side door opens and Taeyong dumps himself into the seat. He looks a mess, his hair is disheveled and his lips are absolutely kiss-swollen and Doyoung would have thought he’d be brimming with some kind of post-make out glow but Taeyong’s eyes meet his over the console and Doyoung’s blood goes cold. 

Where he’d been expecting a flush, warmth even maybe, there is nothing. His gaze is empty, cold, like Taeyong isn’t really there at all. Doyoung isn’t even sure if Taeyong knows where he is, his face is a blank slate even though he is looking right at Doyoung. Doyoung has only seen him like this once before, a time neither of them speak about even though Doyoung can still picture it — Taeyong huddled away in the corner of a dark room, overly large shirt hanging off his tiny frame as he shivers from the way the cool air hits sweat-slick skin. He forces the memory away, focuses on the Taeyong of now who doesn’t look all that different. 

He looks back at Donghyuck to find his own worry mirrored in Donghyuck’s eyes along with about a thousand other questions he doesn’t want to answer right now, questions he doesn’t know he has the answers to.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches out, ready to pull away if Taeyong even hints that he is not comfortable but Taeyong doesn’t move — Doyoung doesn’t even know if Taeyong is seeing him even though they are looking right at each other. “Yongie?” He asks, careful to keep his tone low and steady, as gentle as possible, like Taeyong is a wild animal ready to bolt. “Yongie, are you okay? Are you with me?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer but he gives Doyoung the smallest shake of his head and Doyoung’s chest constricts in worry. “Can I touch you?” Another shake. Doyoung retracts his hand slowly, chewing his lip as he tries to figure out what he can possibly do to get Taeyong to talk, to do something, _anything._

Before he can even think about what to do Taeyong’s eyes slip shut and he rests his head against the headrest. “Just drive, Doie. _Please._ I just want to go home.”

Doyoung’s hand twitches, almost aching with the urge to reach out for him, but he holds himself back. Instead, he nods and sits back in his own seat to start the ignition. “Okay,” he says quietly, giving Taeyong one last worried look. “We’ll get you home.”

The ride home is quiet and tension blankets the three of them like an extra layer over their skin, heavy and almost suffocating. Doyoung can barely concentrate, his attention split between Taeyong as he remains unmoving against the headrest and trying not to drive the car onto the curb. For once, Donghyuck is silent too, occasionally meeting Doyoung’s eyes in the rear view mirror and Doyoung wishes that he had the answers to the questions in them.

It takes them less time to get back to Guild Headquarters than it did for them to get to the club on account of Doyoung being _this_ close to breaking every single potential traffic violation. He parks the car in the underground carpark, slipping into their assigned lot haphazardly but in one go, an unprecedented feat for him. 

Donghyuck gives him a look, just one, a silent question but Doyoung shakes his head. Taeyong is going to need as little people around him as possible and he doesn’t think it will be fair of them to drag Donghyuck into something like this. 

Doyoung remains seated as Donghyuck climbs out of the car and disappears into the lift lobby. He gives it another extra few minutes before he unstraps himself and slowly leans over to release Taeyong’s safety belt as well, keeping an eye on Taeyong for any sign of protest. Taeyong jumps a little at the sound, his eyes shooting open, and Doyoung reaches for him reflexively before he stops himself, his hand hovering barely an inch away from Taeyong’s. 

“It’s okay, Yongie,” he soothes, retracting his hand slowly. His heart clenches at the way Taeyong looks at him, painfully blank, his eyes empty, dark pools instead of the warm ones that he is used to. “I’m going to come around and get you, okay?” Taeyong doesn’t acknowledge but Doyoung wasn’t expecting him to anyway, not when he is as far gone as he seems to be.

Doyoung exits the car and goes around to the passenger side, taking care to open the door gently so as not to startle Taeyong further. Taeyong does follow his movements though and Doyoung feels a flicker of relief at the sign that some part of Taeyong is there and _aware_. He crouches down slowly until he is looking up at Taeyong. “Yongie, I’m going to have to touch you okay? But I need you to tell me that it’s okay. I promise I won’t do anything more than you want me to.”

Taeyong blinks once, twice, and then he nods slowly like his entire body is trapped in some kind of sticky substance and he can only move at a speed that is a bare fraction of normal. Doyoung breathes out a sigh. “Where can I touch, Yongie? You don’t have to speak, just actions will do.”

Wordlessly, Taeyong holds out a hand and Doyoung nearly sobs with relief. He reaches to take Taeyong’s hand, holding it gently within his own as he guides Taeyong out of the car. Doyoung leads him slowly from the car to the lobby and into the elevator, all the while looking for signs that Taeyong might be coming back, even small ones. 

The first sign happens when Doyoung, very slowly interlaces their fingers in the lift and brushes his thumb against the back of Taeyong’s knuckles. It is a small gesture but a light sparks small in Taeyong’s eyes and Doyoung feels like something in his chest crack open, the pressure in it releasing. Then Taeyong’s hand clutches just a bit tighter around Doyoung’s, squeezing his for a fraction of a second and Doyoung thinks he could cry then and there. Taeyong doesn’t make any other movements but he is _there_ , in whatever capacity he can be in, and that’s all Doyoung needs. 

Doyoung is gentle when he leads Taeyong down the corridor to their apartment, ears on alert for any sign that someone else might appear in case it causes Taeyong to retreat even further into himself. Doyoung lets the door fall shut behind them, catching it with his foot at the last moment so that it doesn’t slam before helping Taeyong — who is still standing in the middle of their entryway — out of his shoes and ushering him straight into his ensuite bathroom. He closes the lid of the toilet and sits Taeyong on it while he gets a warm bath running and pulls towels from the cupboard under their sink, the fluffy purple ones Taeyong likes the most.

He places them on the counter by the sink before crouching down in front of Taeyong, breathing out slightly when Taeyong’s eyes follow his movement down. “Hey,” he whispers, taking a hold of Taeyong’s hand. “We’re home and I got your bath ready. Can you come back now? It’s just us here.”

Something flickers in Taeyong’s eyes as he blinks, small moments of recognition as he tries to pull himself out of his mind and Doyoung thinks Taeyong even sees him for a second. He clutches at Doyoung and Doyoung allows himself to get pulled closer to accommodate. Slowly, carefully, always watching for signs of discomfort, he reaches up to brush the hair back from Taeyong’s eyes before allowing his fingers to card through Taeyong’s hair gently. 

He presses into his scalp gently, in the way he knows Taeyong likes and Taeyong sighs into it, almost sagging with the feeling and Doyoung sees more light return to his eyes. He looks at Doyoung then, noticing him for the first time since they got home and he takes a deep, heaving breath, almost like he’d just spent the last few moments underwater. “Doyoung?” He asks softly. There is more light now, more recognition and Doyoung barely has time to react before Taeyong pitches forward and into his arms, his own winding around Doyoung and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping him afloat. “Doie, please don’t let go of me.”

His chest tightens at the tremble in Taeyong’s voice, barely there but enough for Doyoung to pick it out. He holds on tighter, pulling Taeyong towards him and rearranging them until Taeyong is seated comfortably in his lap. “I won’t. Don’t worry. I got you.”

Taeyong only burrows closer, clutching tighter at Doyoung, his face buried in the crook of Doyoung’s neck, his breath creating a patch of warmth and moisture just underneath it. They stay like that for a while, Taeyong’s face in his neck, Doyoung’s hands gentle as he rubs soothing circles into the small of Taeyong’s back until Taeyong’s breathing evens out again and he relaxes his hold on Doyoung enough that Doyoung can pull away to look at him. 

Taeyong’s eyes are clearer now, and he meets Doyoung’s gaze intentionally as he slowly returns from whatever headspace he had disappeared into. Whatever it is, wherever he’d gone had taken a toll — Taeyong looks even more tired now than he had before, the shadows under his eyes deepening to bruises that Doyoung ghosts over with his fingers until Taeyong’s eyes flutter shut. He presses his lips to the side of Taeyong’s head. “C’mon,” he whispers into Taeyong’s hair. “Let’s get you in the tub.” 

He hauls Taeyong to his feet, steadying him when he sways slightly. “Do you want me to stay?” Taeyong nods, reaching for Doyoung again as if he doesn’t want to be apart, _can’t_ be apart from him and something in him simultaneously swells and shatters, overflows.

“Stay with me please,” he whispers. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Doyoung offers him a small smile. “Okay. I won’t leave you. But you need to get in the tub, I made it extra warm for you.” He gives Taeyong’s arm a squeeze. “It will help.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says, small, and Doyoung can see a question in his eyes, the slight panic brimming just beneath the surface so he takes Taeyong’s hand and brushes his thumb across the back of it softly, watches as the touch helps to ground Taeyong just that much more.

“I’ll be right there with you, okay?” He says, answering Taeyong’s unspoken question and the relief is almost palpable. “Now, come. Let’s get the smell of smoke out of your hair.”

They strip, Doyoung helping Taeyong peel his outfit off him, neither of them fazed by each other’s nakedness — a result of more than a decade spent training together, forced into the field together, living together. Doyoung thinks absolutely nothing of it when he helps Taeyong into the tub before climbing in after him. 

The water is warm and Taeyong settles against him as Doyoung takes his time, soaping his fingers and working them through the tangles and product in Taeyong’s hair until the strands are back to their smooth, natural state. Neither of them speak but Doyoung can see the way the tension bleeds from Taeyong’s body, the way the muscles in his shoulders start to relax and he starts to sink further and further under the water and against Doyoung. Doyoung lets him, knows that Taeyong needs this — the warmth of the water, the weight of his arm around Taeyong’s waist, the feel of him against Taeyong’s back, anchoring him in more way than one.

Donghyuck’s voice from earlier echoes through his mind at one point, _you act more like a married couple than my parents_ and Doyoung can see why he would say that now. That doesn’t mean anything, though, doesn’t change the fact that they’re not dating, that this is how they’ve always been with each other. 

Doyoung brushes it aside. Now is neither the time nor the place for him to even consider what Donghyuck had been implying. Instead, he pulls Taeyong closer to him, careful to avoid sloshing the water out of the bathtub and Taeyong goes willingly, lying back against Doyoung until his head is pillowed against Doyoung’s chest.

Taeyong traces patterns into his leg, fingers ghosting over the numerous scars from all their previous hunts and sparring sessions, and Doyoung allows himself to relax too, letting the beating of their hearts blending into one lull him into a kind of stupor. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after a while, when he is sure Taeyong is back to his normal self.

Taeyong sighs, leaning further back against him and Doyoung tightens his hold around Taeyong’s waist so he doesn’t slip completely into the water. “It was just… It became so much after a while. He was just _everywhere_. His hands…” Taeyong trails off and Doyoung's grip tightens around Taeyong’s waist.

“Did he do something to you?” 

“No,” Taeyong says immediately, his hand finding Doyoung’s to give it a small squeeze, a token of reassurance. “It wasn’t— It wasn’t anything I didn't want but it just… I didn’t enjoy it after a while and then I think everything kind of became too much. First the dead girl and then the fight with the witches out of nowhere, and then tonight and I—” He takes a shuddering breath and Doyoung pulls him closer, wrapping both his arms and his legs around him, cocooning him. “I think I just kind of retreated into myself so I didn’t have to deal with it.”

Doyoung feels anger flare in his stomach. Not at Taeyong, not even at Yuta but just at the whole situation and at himself for even suggesting that Taeyong go instead of him. Stupid. “Why didn’t you just stop it?”

“I did. Actually, he did. I think he realised I wasn’t really there anymore and he tried to help but it was too late. It felt like everything kind of collapsed into each other and I guess I just left. Mentally I mean. Checked out completely.” He grips Doyoung’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“No. No, don’t apologise, Yongie. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have convinced you to do it. I should have gone. I’m sorry.”

Taeyong huffs out a breath of laughter, surprising Doyoung. “Why are you apologising? This is my job as much as it is yours. It would have been one of us either way. Besides, I agreed to go, I just didn’t think flirting with vampires would be that… intense. Actually, the club itself was pretty intense.”

Taeyong launches himself then into a complete recount of the entire night, about the club and it’s patrons, more out of a need to get it out of him than out of excitement. He tells Doyoung what it had looked like, about the interesting witch bartender named Ten that Doyoung had heard him talk to through the earpiece. It is then followed by a rather lengthy tirade about how the club allows humans to find out about them, how the Family that runs it lets them, something Taeyong declares he will bring up to his father when they next see him. 

Doyoung lets him talk, happy to listen because Taeyong needs this. They relocate once the water becomes a gross lukewarm temperature and Doyoung tucks Taeyong into the couch under a pile of blankets, ignoring when he accuses Doyoung of trying to smother him because he knows that Taeyong will end up burying himself underneath them eventually.

Doyoung ends up having to make them ramen too when Taeyong declares that he is hungry and they settle in to watch a rerun of Taeyong’s favourite drama, the pot of ramen balanced precariously between them on a pile of cushions. He does everything humanly possible that he knows will make Taeyong feel better, right down to tucking him into his side when he eventually passes out on the couch, the noise of the television lowered to nothing more than a pleasant buzz.

Doyoung watches for a while as sleep allows Taeyong to relax even more, the tension in the lines of his face melting away as he curls into Doyoung and presses his face into Doyoung’s chest. For the first time, Doyoung is conscious of the way they fit against each other, the way Taeyong feels pressed against him. A ghost of the conversation he had with Donghyuck floats to the forefront of his mind and he sighs, pressing his eyes shut like that will keep the words out. 

It is only much later, with Donghyuck’s voice, bold and challenging, replaying in his head and Taeyong warm and familiar against his side, that he finally falls asleep.

♰

When Doyoung wakes up the next morning it is to an empty couch and he bolts upright, the cushions falling off him and onto the floor as he tries to take stock of everything. Pale, early morning sunlight is already filtering in through the gaps in their blinds and it throws the living room into a kind of warm, dim light.

He squints, at the clock above the television, trying to will his eyes to focus but they remain blurred and hazy from sleep. He looks around, notices Taeyong’s still-open bedroom door and frowns because if Taeyong had gone back to his room he would have shut the door. 

He is gathering the strength to get himself out of bed when he hears the clang of metal on metal coming from the kitchen, instantly followed by the faint aroma of coffee. He brings a smile to his lips because, of course Taeyong would have woken up before him just to make breakfast and Doyoung knows he will try to play it off as nothing, as something he just felt like doing even though this is Taeyong’s way of saying thank you.

He wrestles with the idea of remaining tucked into the soft warmth of the couch and their multiple blankets before eventually shelving it. He forces himself off the couch and into the kitchen, wincing when his bare feet come into contact with the cold, wooden floor. 

When he gets to the kitchen he finds Taeyong still in his pajamas with hair that is sticking out on one side from how they must have slept, pressed against each other on their tiny, old couch. He flits between the stove and the tiny little island they like to use as a dining table, alternating between cooking and laying out the plates. It is a bit like looking at a child trying to cook, the over-eager energy pouring out from him in waves that Doyoung can almost feel. It is almost adorable but Doyoung is just happy to see Taeyong truly back to himself, the shade of him from the night before banished by the morning light. 

“Coffee’s on the island,” Taeyong calls without a single glance behind him, his voice still rough and unused from sleep. “Yours is the one on the left.” Doyoung looks down and sure enough there are two steaming mugs of coffee on the island’s wooden surface. He grabs the one on the left, humming in appreciation when the smell hits him before he takes a small sip — no milk and two sugars, just how Doyoung likes it.

“Why are you up so early?” Doyoung asks.

Taeyong shrugs, turning around to meet Doyoung’s gaze. He grabs his coffee off the table and takes a careful mouthful. “No reason. I couldn’t sleep.”

Doyoung frowns, noticing the bruises under his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”

Another shrug. “A bit? I don’t know. My mind was a mess last night.”

Doyoung sighs, putting the cup back down on the island. “You should have woken me up or something.”

“And what? Have both of us extremely exhausted when we go in to give my father our report later? At least one of us needs to be on top of everything.” He turns to give Doyoung a small, tired smile. “Looks like it will have to be you today.”

“You didn’t have to make breakfast though.”

At that Taeyong’s smile morphs into something warmer, wider, and Doyoung feels it like the morning’s sunshine across his face. “You know I had to. For last night.”

Doyoung can’t help it, he stares at Taeyong, stunned because Taeyong rarely says thank you (or sorry) not because he doesn’t have manners but out of a preference for letting his actions speak for themselves, and Doyoung has long since become fluent in Taeyong’s language of choice so this takes him completely off-guard. 

“Did you just… _Thank_ me?” He sputters out.

“Yes,” Taeyong says, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t get used to it though.”

Doyoung snorts before circling the island to pull Taeyong into a hug. Taeyong makes a disgruntled noise but he softens against Doyoung’s chest. “You know you don’t have to thank me for last night right?” Doyoung whispers against his hair, trying his best to ignore the way it’s tickling his nose. “I only did what anyone would do.”

“Still,” Taeyong mumbles. “I just wanted to do something for you. Because I know this hasn’t been easy for you too, what with how much this case means to you. To us.”

Doyoung exhales, giving Taeyong one last squeeze before releasing him so that they don’t end up burning their breakfast. “You’re ridiculous. But, thank you too. Just promise me that you’ll tell me if things get too much next time, okay? Seeing you like that, I can’t- I was so _worried_ , Yongie. Don’t,” he holds a finger when Taeyong opens his mouth. “ _Don’t_ apologise, that’s not what I’m getting at. I just want you to be honest with me. You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that right? I’m not going to judge you.”

Taeyong sighs, eyes fixed on the eggs he’s stirring forlornly in the pan. “I know. It’s just hard, sometimes. I mean,” he looks up at Doyoung, a different time of exhaustion in his gaze now. “You know what it’s like, to always feel like you have to prove yourself. Like you have to be what everyone expects you to be.”

And Doyoung knows, how could he not know, how could he not understand when he himself feels the pressure just like Taeyong does. Of course, they’re not entirely the same — Taeyong grew up with the mantle of being the Counsellor’s son while Doyoung had to grow up as the only boy that didn’t come from a Hunter bloodline and an orphan at that. Different circumstances but the pressure to prove themselves, and prove others wrong remains the same. 

“You know no one expects you to be your father, right?”

Taeyong sighs, releasing the ladle to look up at Doyoung who is watching him expectantly. “I know but _I_ do. I mean, how can I not when he is just _there._ You know? The best of his generation.”

Doyoung shakes his head, leaning over Taeyong to turn off the stove before their eggs burn. He gives Taeyong’s arm a gentle squeeze on the way back. “I know. But you are not him. You are _you._ Also, this is me we’re talking about, you don’t have to try to be someone else in front of me. I’ve seen you wet your pants, there’s really no going back from that.”

“Hey!" Taeyong exclaims, smacking him on the arm. "That was one time and I was a kid!” His tone is petulant but there’s a smile on his face and Doyoung returns it before he hip checks him away from the stove. 

“Exactly. I've seen you at your grossest, snottiest self. So, next time, just talk to me okay? Now, go sit down. I’ll bring the eggs out.”

The look Doyoung receives is grateful but he knows Taeyong isn’t fully convinced. How can he be when he knows too well that the pressure that Taeyong feels, feels it himself even in his own thirst to show the other Hunters that he can be just as good as them without the strength of a bloodline. It is a stupid conviction, the worst parts of themselves reflected in each other, but also why they shouldn’t have to pretend with each other. Why do you have to pretend when you are the same?

♰

Taeyong was right. One of them did need to have their wits about them for the meeting with Taeyong’s father, even if it was more of an unofficial status update reporting than anything else.

They are called into his office later on in the day, thankfully after both of them manage to sneak in a couple more hours of sleep. Doyoung doesn’t know why but, despite the extra hours of sleep, his body feels taught, strung out like a living wire, electricity dancing in waves across his skin. His throat effectively dries out as they make their way down the corridor to Taeyong’s father’s office, bowing to the other Hunters they meet along the way.

He blames it on the culmination of everything — of the fact that it’s been over half a week since the body was found and they still have nothing to go on it, the unprecedented fight with the witches and everything that happened the night before. And yet, they still have nothing to go on, or almost nothing anyway. All they do have is some poorly gathered proof that the vampires are hiding something, along with everything Yuta mentioned on tape saying, including his denial of their Family’s involvement. It feels like they’re taking two steps forward only to be yanked two steps back and Doyoung feels like he no longer knows which way is forward anymore.

Taeyong’s father seems to agree with Doyoung’s own analysis if the look on his face is anything to go by. 

“This doesn’t tell me anything,” he says as he stands from behind his desk. He rounds it until he is standing in front of both Taeyong and Doyoung, an unreadable look on his face as he crosses his arms. “I told you to find out if the vampire Elder was lying to me and you come back with both proof of that as well as evidence that disproves it. What do you expect me to do with this information?” The disappointment in his voice cracks like a whip over them and Doyoung sees Taeyong flinch slightly.

“It is possible that Yuta, the, uh, vampire we spoke to, was simply reciting rules. Rules that we already know as well. Saying that their Elder disapproves of them killing humans doesn’t mean that they’re not responsible for the death of this one,” Doyoung offers.

At that Taeyong’s father actually sighs. “Sometimes, I forget that you guys haven’t met the Family’s Elder yet. There is no way they would ever go against him, not when he is their Sire as well as their Elder. There is a power over them that he holds and I know for a fact that he would not hesitate to exercise it, Family or not.” 

His words send a shiver down Doyoung’s spine as visions of strong, pale arms and teeth sharper than knives flash through his mind’s eye. He shoves them away and out of sight, doesn’t want to consider the strength of someone like that, someone whose strength is enough to scare even other vampires.

“So what do you think we should do?” Taeyong's voice is firm when he speaks, just the right amount of determination to earn his father’s approval but Doyoung practically feel the nerves lying just under the surface.

“Find out what it is they are hiding,” his father orders. “Whether it is related to the girl or not, I want to know what it is they’re doing that they haven’t reported it to the Guild. At the very least, it might help us figure out who killed the girl in the first place.” Then his tone softens and he turns to Taeyong who stiffens slightly under the attention. “I know this is bigger than you could have expected for a first case, but Guild law is Guild law, and this investigation has to fall on the both of you unless the Council collectively agrees otherwise.” His gives Taeyong’s shoulder a squeeze and a small smile. “But know that I believe in you. In the both of you. And if you do this well, there might be a possibility that the Council will consider promoting you both ahead of time.”

Doyoung’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?” 

Taeyong’s father chuckles at his reaction and Doyoung’s mouth snaps shut when he realises, schooling his expression into something more neutral. “Why not? It may be Guild tradition that Hunters remain at Novice rank until they’ve hit their ten year mark but it isn’t entirely impossible to be promoted to an Adept before then. There are a handful who have done it and I don’t doubt that you and Taeyong both are capable enough to do it too. Do well on this, and it may be in the cards for you both.”

And there is the caveat. Even if he doesn’t verbalise it, Doyoung hears the alternative loud and clear. _Don’t do well, and it will reflect equally on your careers_. If they had thought the pressure to do well before was high, this has just increased the stakes ten-fold and Doyoung can’t help but feel like he’s being tested, the promotion sitting pretty at the end of the line but the race is an obstacle course of infinite capabilities. 

He sees this reflected in Taeyong too — his expression remains neutral, a perfect mask, but his body has gone completely rigid and Doyoung can just make out the way his fists are balled up so tightly against his sides that his knuckles have gone almost white. 

There is no way they can fail this now, there is no other way out for them. Taeyong’s father might have thought he was giving them a source of encouragement, a proverbial olive branch, but for Doyoung (and he knows it is the same for Taeyong too) it is an ultimatum — do well or do not at all. And there is really only one option for him. For them.

It is Taeyong that speaks following his father’s declaration, his voice completely measured in the same way a lake might be calm on the surface despite the rush of current that flows beneath it. “Thank you, father. We won’t disappoint you.”

Taeyong’s father smiles, clapping Taeyong on the shoulder once more. “I know you won’t.”

⊱ ━━━━. ✥ .━━━━ ⊰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have a thing for hurt/comfort bath scenes...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_) ♥︎


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